


Windfalls

by ioanite



Series: Windfalls [1]
Category: Hornblower (TV), Hornblower-C.S. Forester, Treasure Planet
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Warning: Mention of suicide, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 20:17:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 31,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1098180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ioanite/pseuds/ioanite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Horatio Hornblower is sent out to patrol the trade routes and capture French Privateers, overseen by one Captain Drake. As it turns out, there are more than a few surprises in store...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally uploaded one chapter a week over at the Livejournal Hornblower community following_sea. I feel it's one of my better works, despite being a crack pairing played totally straight. Thank you to everyone who reviewed and supported this strange fic over the years!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about continuity with the books/TV series, the main story takes place during "Ship of the Line", although elements from the TV show are present, hence why I tagged the story with both canons.
> 
> This particular section is probably the most confusing, time-wise, because I have taken the plot point from "Retribution" and combined it with what actually happened in "Lieutenant Hornblower." It had to be done, however, if I wanted the rest of this story to work. Apologies for any confusion.

Horatio took a seat beside Archie’s bed, looking down at him silently, wanting to speak but unsure what to say. Finally, Archie broke the silence.

“How was the inquiry?”

“It’s over. Buckland may have a hard time of it, but the rest of us won’t be held accountable for the capture of the _Renown_.”

Archie smiled weakly. “And what about…”

“They didn’t ask.”

Archie’s eyes opened for the first time, glittering with a brightness that unnerved Horatio. “Well then, that’s all right. No need to worry about our necks.”

Horatio stayed silent, afraid that speaking about Archie’s condition would hasten the inevitable. Archie glanced at him. “There’s something else, isn’t there? Come on, let’s hear it.”

Horatio couldn’t look his friend in the eye as he answered “I’ve been made Commander of the ship _Retribution_.”

“Well done, Horatio.” There was a smile in Archie’s voice, “I knew you’d have your own command before you were thirty.”

“But it shouldn’t have been me. It should have been Mr. Bush.”

Archie laid a hand on Horatio’s arm. “No. It should have been you.”

Horatio was at a loss for words. Archie shook his head and rolled his eyes ever so slightly. “When do you set out?”

“This afternoon. I just wanted to see you before I left and…and see how you were doing.”

“Oh, stop treating me like I’m glass, Horatio. I know what’s going to happen to me. Why try to pretend otherwise?”

Horatio lowered his head. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“There is.” Horatio looked up in time to see Archie take his silver pocket watch off the bedside table and hold it out to Horatio. “Take this with you. It’s much more appropriate for a commander to have than a dying lieutenant.”

“Archie, I can’t…”

“Take it, Horatio. I’ve got enough strength left in me to force you.”

Horatio took it and slid it into his pocket, removing the old brass one he’d bought second hand the day he’d gotten his lieutenant’s uniform. Satisfied, Archie leaned back in the bed and closed his eyes. “Thank you, Horatio. Now, you’d better get a move on. Your crew’s waiting.”

Horatio stood up, forcing himself to look at Archie one last time. “Goodbye, Archie.”

“Till we meet again, Horatio.”

Horatio left the room quickly, afraid of what would happen if he stayed in that room a second longer.


	2. Eight Years Later

“You wished to see me, sir?” Horatio Hornblower, Captain of the _Sutherland_ , stood in front of Admiral Leighton, hands twisting nervously behind his back.

 “Yes, Captain Hornblower,” Leighton said, smiling and getting up from his desk, “I’ve heard you’ve been doing a masterful job of capturing French ships.”

Hornblower hoped he wasn’t blushing. “Simple luck, sir.”

 “Well, whatever the reason, you’re damn good at it. Which is why I’m giving you new orders. You are no longer working under me.”

“Sir?”

“As you may expect, Hornblower, the war is a bit of a drain on England’s finances. Of course, it doesn’t help that our trade routes are being attacked by privateers. At least, that’s the current situation.”

Hornblower began to understand. “I’m to patrol the trade routes and bring in privateers?”

“You won’t be working alone. We dispatched Captain Drake of the _Legacy_ to do the job a month ago, but the numbers of French privateers are increasing. France is in as much trouble as we are, maybe more. Therefore, I want you to rendezvous with the _Legacy_ and capture as many privateers as you can.”

“Aye, sir. Does this mission have an end date?”

“A ship will be sent to inform you and Drake that you may cease.” Leighton handed him a small packet of papers. “Your orders.”

“Thank you, sir. I shall set sail tonight.”

“Good man, Hornblower. Godspeed.”

***

“Mr. Bush,” Hornblower asked casually a few hours later, as Polwheal cleared the dinner plates, “Do you know anything about a Captain Drake?”

Bush considered. “Drake…I’ve heard of him by reputation. Known as ‘Wildcat’, by his crew. Quite good at capturing ships, it seems; most of his income comes from prize money.”

 “What about the man himself?”

Bush shook his head. “They say he never leaves his ship for shore leave. No one knows whether it’s out of pride or shame.”

“Shame?”

Bush waited until Polwheal had gone for good before he spoke again. “A few years back, Captain Drake was hauled up before the Admiralty and court-martialed. The reason was never revealed, but apparently he was cleared of all charges.” He looked at Hornblower inquisitively. “But why all this interest in Captain Drake?”

Hornblower set his orders on the table. “I’ve been given new orders. We’re being sent to the trade routes to assist Captain Drake in capturing privateers. We’re to rendezvous with him in about a week’s time.”

Bush’s eyes lit up. Hornblower allowed himself a slight smile before continuing. “If you would be so kind, Mr. Bush, as to tell the hands to set a course for the trade routes? We leave at nightfall.”

Bush saluted and stood up, apparently eager to get underway. Hornblower took another sip of wine, mulling over his orders and the information that Bush had given him. On the whole, he wasn’t impressed by what he’d heard. But he would wait until he’d encountered the man properly before forming an opinion. After all, as someone had once told him, “I judge a man by what I see him do, not by what others tell me he has done.”

***

Hornblower was pleased to note that the crew spent the whole journey towards the appointed rendezvous site murmuring with excitement and anticipation. Fighting privateers would guarantee prize money, esteem, and a chance for action. And as loathe as he was to admit it, Hornblower could feel that same anticipation fluttering somewhere deep inside him as well.

A week or so after leaving Leighton’s flotilla, the lookout called down that he saw a ship with British colors. “Run up the signal flags, Mr. Savage,” Hornblower said to the young midshipman standing closest to him, “Tell them we are meant to rendezvous with the _Legacy_.”

The flags were up in short order. After a few minutes of squinting through a telescope, Savage turned and called up to Hornblower. “It’s the _Legacy_ , sir. Captain requests permission to come aboard in order to brief you on the current situation.”

“Permission granted. Mr. Bush, inform the crew that Captain Drake is coming aboard.”

“Bosuns at the ready! All officers on deck!” Bush roared with that admirable voice of his. Hornblower himself retreated into his cabin to put on the better of his two captains coats; it wouldn’t do for Captain Drake to see him in a threadbare jacket.

When he returned to the deck, Bush approached. “Boat approaching, sir. It should arrive in a few minutes.”

“Very good, Mr. Bush. Mr. Savage! Can you see Captain Drake?”

Savage squinted through the spyglass. “Maybe. I…” he stopped short. Lowering the spyglass, he blinked a few times. “Out with it, man!” Bush roared.

Savage shook his head. “Nothing, sir. I think it was just a trick of the light, because I swear I saw…”

At that moment, there came the unmistakable sound of a boat bumping against the side of the ship. Savage closed the spyglass and sprang to his proper place. The bosun’s pipes began to twitter…and stopped short thirty seconds later as everyone caught sight of the figure that had just climbed onto the deck.

The first thing Horatio noticed was the ears. Drake had removed his hat the moment he’d reached the deck, revealing ears that were long and pointed like a cat’s. Aware that he was staring, Horatio tore his eyes away from the disfigurement and took in the rest of Captain Drake. Only then did he realize the _true_ reason for the unexpected silence.

Captain Drake, taking no notice of the stares and lack of a proper reception, approached Hornblower, saluted him, then bowed deeply. “Captain Amelia Drake of _H.M.S. Legacy_ , at your service, Mr. Hornblower.”


	3. Getting Acquainted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains a brief mention of suicide.

Hornblower blinked, uncertain how to respond to the… _thing_ in front of him. Finally, he cleared his throat and managed to say, “Captain Horatio Hornblower of the _Sutherland.”_ Drake rose from her bow and smiled, arching an eyebrow. “A pleasure, Mr. Hornblower. Now, shall we talk business?”

Hornblower nodded, still too shocked to speak properly. He led the way toward his cabin, hoping his discomfort didn’t show. Drake followed behind him, apparently blind to the stares she was getting from the crew.

 When they were both safely in his cabin, Hornblower turned back to Drake. “Captain Drake, I’m sorry, but I must ask you to explain yourself. Is this some sort of sick joke?”

Drake smirked dryly. “Nothing of the sort, Captain, I assure you. If you’ll be so good as to listen, I’ll explain things as best I can.”

Hornblower nodded curtly and sat at his desk. Drake fingered one of her ears and began. “I was born with these. My parents had no idea how it happened, but they knew it did not bode well. They were right; once word got out of my disfigurement, they were plunged into disgrace. Some of the crueler townspeople assumed I was the child of the devil. Naturally, on the few occasions I ventured outside of my home, I was ridiculed on a regular basis. My father, who loved me in spite of it all, taught me how to defend myself if boys decided to rough me up. I quickly learned how to fight back as well.

“My mother, afraid all her children would have this defect, killed herself when I was nine. My father went into a decline after that and died himself three years later. We hadn’t been all that well off to begin with, and it was unlikely that anyone would take me in, much less ask for my hand. Short of going to the streets, my only other option was subterfuge. Hiding my ears under a wig, I joined the Navy just as war broke out. For a time, things went well. I actually rose through the ranks, becoming a captain. When I inevitably began to grow up, I was able to hide my condition from my men. Still, no one was the wiser.

“Then came 1806. I was Captain of the _Legacy_ by then, and I was well on my way to gaining a reputation. The _Legacy_ was caught in the middle of a driving rainstorm, and the sharp wind dislodged my wig. Unfortunately, some of my crew had heard the story of a demon girl with cat ears, and put two and two together. I was reported to the Admiralty and found myself standing before a tribunal in short order.”

For the first time in this retelling, Hornblower noticed a stiffening in Drake’s shoulders, and her hands, which had been gesticulating expressively as she talked, slid behind her back. She fell silent for a moment, gazing off into the distance; Hornblower had the distinct feeling that she was reliving her court-martial. Shaking her head abruptly, she continued.

“I was lucky; Old Boney had been wreaking havoc amongst our ships, and they needed men. I was allowed to stay in the Navy, under my true identity, as long as I accepted the following conditions. First, I am to remain captain of the _Legacy_ , with no chance for promotion or transfer of command. Secondly, I have sworn that the moment this war is over, I am to find an Admiral and formally resign. And finally, if I am put into a position where I could be court-martialed, the tribunal will not be soft with me. I will get the same punishment as a man, be it a dishonorable discharge, prison, or hanging. The tribunal did not, however, take away my right to prize money, which is why I was delighted to be given this assignment; after all, this war can’t last forever.”

Drake finished her speech and looked over at Hornblower, her body relaxing. “Well, now that that’s out of the way…would you care to be briefed on the situation?” Hornblower cleared his throat and gestured towards the spare chair. “Of course, Captain Drake. Forgive my rudeness; will you sit down?”

Drake sat herself down in the chair gracefully, adjusting herself to its contours as if it was her own chair. “Excellent. Now, we first encountered a privateer _here…”_

***

Drake straightened up from Hornblower’s desk half-an-hour later. “That brings you up to date, Captain. Where do we go from here?”

“I suggest another meeting tomorrow afternoon, where we can formulate a plan of action.”

Drake nodded. “I agree. Bring your first officer along; perhaps he can be of service as well.”

Hornblower nodded and followed her out the door. “One last thing, Captain Drake; what sort of ship is the _Legacy_?”

Drake’s eyes glowed, and her head tilted upwards slightly. “She’s my pride and joy. She’s a fifth-rate frigate; I was quite lucky to have got her, honestly. Thirty-two guns, crew of two hundred, nimble and quick. We’ve gotten to know each other well over the years—I know her faults, she knows mine.”

Hornblower smiled at her enthusiasm. “Then you think she’ll be up to the challenge?”

“Hornblower, she’s _been_ up to the challenge for two months. I’d be more worried about your own ship.”

Hornblower stared at her in disbelief. She glanced up critically at the _Sutherland’s_ sails and rigging. “I have no doubt your ship will be up to the task, but at the moment, she’s far from prepared, pardon me for saying so. I’ve seen privateers appear out of nowhere; we need to be ready to spring into action in moments. By the time you roll out the cannons, the privateer might already have slipped away, or fired a broadside into you. I’d suggest getting it shipshape before we move out.”

It took all of Hornblower’s restraint to keep his mouth from dropping open at her audacity. Drake gestured at the deck. “I’d start by clearing away some of this clutter, or tying it down. It won’t do to have it rolling around and getting in the way during the heat of battle.”

“Captain, I…”

"Until tomorrow then, Mr. Hornblower.” Drake said with a smile and quick salute, as she grasped the ladder and climbed down into her boat.

It was only once she was out of sight that Hornblower suddenly realized he was clenching his fist so hard he was in danger of cutting his palm. Relaxing his grip, he looked at his men, who had once again gathered to stare at Drake. “Crew dismissed! Go about your duties!”

The men dispersed. Bush sidled up to Hornblower. “Sir? Are you all right?”

  
“Fine!” Hornblower snapped, “We’re to visit her ship tomorrow and decide on a course of action.”

 Bush raised an eyebrow. “Sir, are you sure there’s nothing…”

"I’m fine!” Hornblower repeated, turning away. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

He returned to his cabin and slammed the door shut. Once he’d ascertained that he was alone, he allowed himself to rant.

“The _nerve_ of that, that…woman! What makes her think she has the right to criticize _my_ ship? _She’s_ the one who doesn’t belong here! Just because she’s been at this longer than I have doesn’t give her permission to criticize me! I’m her superior! That girl needs to learn respect!”

Finally, after taking a liberal swallow of alcohol and a few deep breaths, Hornblower was calm enough to call for Bush. “Mr. Bush, I want you to have the crew examine the ship and determine if there is any way we can make the _Sutherland_ more battle worthy. Bring me a report of the findings. After that, I want you to start running drills with the cannons.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Bush said, saluting. After Hornblower had dismissed him, he poured another drink and murmured, “Damn her.”

***

The next morning found Hornblower and Bush alongside the _Legacy,_ being welcomed by a cheery twittering of the pipes. Up close, Hornblower had to admit that it was a handsome vessel. But he wasn’t in the mood to admire the sight; he was still stinging from Drake’s words the afternoon before, especially after Bush had come to him with a list of some twenty odd things wrong with the ship. Although he was not one for rivalry with fellow captains, at the moment he wanted an excuse, any excuse, to give Drake the same feeling of humiliation that she had given him.

As soon as Hornblower was fully on the deck, Drake was stepping forward, hand extended. “Captain Hornblower. Welcome to the _Legacy_.”

Hornblower shook her hand without much interest, glancing around the deck. Everything extraneous had been cleared away. Arching an eyebrow, he turned back to Drake. “May I introduce my first officer, William Bush?”

Drake shook Bush’s hand with vigor. “A pleasure, Mr. Bush. I’d introduce you to my first officer, but I don’t know where he’s disappeared to. I _told_ him you were coming.” She looked around the deck, shaking her head. “Never punctual, that man. I’d bet he was two hours late for his own birth.”

Hornblower arched an eyebrow and was about to make a comment on the discipline of her men when Drake caught sight of  a man hurrying towards them. She put a hand on her hip and waved him towards them. “Step lively, Kennedy! They’ve already arrived!”

All thoughts of getting back at Drake were instantly driven out of Hornblower’s head. Had he heard her correctly? He looked over the approaching officer. Average height, messy blond hair…but it couldn’t be…could it?

Now the officer was standing in front of them, and Hornblower couldn’t stop staring at the man’s grin and bright blue eyes. Unsure what to say, he finally gasped out the only thing he could think of.

“Archie?”


	4. Explanations

Drake looked from her first officer to Hornblower. “You know each other?”

“We were mids together,” the blonde man replied, and Hornblower felt his breath catch as he recognized the voice, light with just a hint of roguishness, “And we were both on the _Renown_ during the…incident.”

“Ah,” Drake glanced at Hornblower, who was sure his amazement was written all over his face, “No wonder your eyes lit up when I told you about our new assignment. Honestly, Kennedy, couldn’t you have told me you knew him? You’ve nearly killed him from the shock; you could have allowed me to give him the courtesy of some advanced warning.”

Archie brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I couldn’t be sure it was the Hornblower I knew; I had to make sure.”

“Kennedy, how many Hornblower’s do you think there _are?_ It’s not the world’s commonest surname, now is it?”

Archie shrugged, and Drake rolled her eyes. “I do wonder about you sometimes, Kennedy. But enough of that. I suppose introductions aren’t necessary, but for the sake of propriety; Captain Hornblower, this is Archie Kennedy, my first officer.”

“ _How_?” It was the only thing Hornblower could say, grasping Archie’s hand numbly. Archie laughed a little. “It’s a long story, Horatio.”

Drake put her hand on Archie’s shoulder. “There’s no rush. Why don’t the two of you catch up for a few minutes? Show him to my stateroom when you’re done.”

Archie nodded. Drake turned on her heel. “You’re welcome to join me, Mr. Bush, unless you’d rather hear Kennedy’s tale of woe.” Bush hesitated, caught sight of Hornblower’s face (at this point, Hornblower was sure all the color had drained out of it), then followed Drake.

Hornblower walked over to the nearest bench and sat down heavily, staring at his old friend. Archie sat down beside him and smiled the old familiar smile. “I know what you’re thinking.”

“You were shot in the chest! When I said goodbye before departing for England, you looked like you had one foot in the grave! And you’ve been alive all this time? Why wasn’t I informed?”

Archie started laughing. “Horatio, you sound like the heroine of a novel, furious at something one of her suitors has done.”

Horatio flushed and cleared his throat, trying to regain a bit of composure. Archie shook his head. “Same old Horatio. How _did_ you manage to get married? If I was your wife, I would have strangled you after the first three months.”

“How did you know I…”

“I read the papers, Horatio. I heard about your marriage, your part in Nelson’s funeral, everything. And I heard about the _Natividad_. My God, I was nearly eaten alive with envy. Well, at least until we got this assignment.”

“You know all about what I’ve been doing. What about _you_?”

Archie smiled again. “I really am sorry, Horatio. I wanted to write to you, but the timing was horrid. I was at sea when you were on leave, and vice versa. Plus you kept moving about; I never knew where to send the letters.” Well aware of the information Hornblower really wanted, Archie took pity on him and explained. “The bullet grazed my lung, but didn’t penetrate it. I was in bad shape when you left because Clive was an incompetent prat. When the infirmary realized this, they sent for a better doctor. My condition improved hours after the new man arrived. After about three months, I was actually able to leave bed. By the time we went to war again, I was healed and prepared to join a ship. They placed me as the second lieutenant on the _Legacy_. I was promoted to first lieutenant after  Mr. Sommes transferred—something about ‘not wanting to serve under a woman’. I had no such qualms.”

Hornblower arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t?” he said, sounding incredulous.

Archie grinned knowingly. “Got under your skin, did she? I’ll admit that she can be brusque, even blunt, but she’s quite a good captain. And if you’ll give her a chance, she’ll be a good friend as well.”

“Are you telling me you’re _friends_ with her?”

“Yes, Horatio,” Archie said patiently, “You just need to…” he shook his head and smiled, “Give it time, Horatio. You’ll see what I mean.”

A voice rang down the deck. “Kennedy! There’s a fine line between catching up and gossip! Into my stateroom, if you please!”

Archie got up. “Duty calls, Mr. Hornblower. Shall we?”

Hornblower smiled for the first time. “Lead the way, Mr. Kennedy.”

***

“I think that will be all, gentlemen. We’ll set off at the next watch. Mr. Hornblower, if I could have a word with you before you depart?”

Hornblower hesitated, looking into Drake’s face for any sign of mischief. Finding none, he nodded grudgingly. Drake nodded at Archie, who took Bush by the arm and led him out. Once the door closed behind them, Drake reclined back in her seat and put her feet up on the table. “I want to be fair with you, Hornblower, when it comes to this mission. Assuming that both of us participate in the capture of a privateer, both of us should get an equal portion of the prize money. The distribution of prize money when two or more ships are involved can get complicated, and I want to make sure you and your men are not denied your share.”

Hornblower was surprised that the thought had even occurred to her. But he bowed slightly in appreciation. “Very kind of you, Captain Drake. Did you have a plan to ensure equality between our crews?”

Drake opened a drawer and began rummaging around in it. “The easiest part is to put an equal number of crewmen on the ships. But then we get into the more complicated matter of which of our men gets to captain the ship. That’s why I came up with a fair solution.” She took her feet off the desk and leaned forward, holding out a coin. “You can choose, heads or tails. If you win, your men can captain the first prize ship we encounter. Then my men captain the next ship, and so on and so forth. If I win, it’s the reverse. Do we have a deal?”

Hornblower smiled at this charmingly simple solution. “It’s a deal.”

She flipped the coin. “Well?”

Hornblower’s eyes flicked to her ears, and the word association caused him to blurt out “Tails.”

Drake caught the coin and slapped it onto her palm. Her lips quirked into a grin. “Tails it is, Mr. Hornblower. Congratulations.”

He smiled back, unable to stop a slight flush from springing to his cheeks. “My thanks, Captain Drake.”

She stood up from her desk. “I don’t think we have any further business. I wish you the best of luck tomorrow.”

Hornblower nodded and turned to go. “The same to you, Captain.”

“And Hornblower?” When he turned around, Drake was grinning at him, “If I spot a privateer first, you owe me a bottle of wine.”

Hornblower arched an eyebrow. “And if my ship strikes the first blow, you owe me a dinner made from your best cow.”

Drake laughed. “May the best man win then, Mr. Hornblower.”

As Hornblower closed the door, he saw Bush and Archie leaning against the railing, deep in conversation. He came up to them, clearing his throat. “Mr. Bush, call our sailors. We’re heading back to the _Sutherland.”_

Bush touched his hat and moved off. Hornblower pulled out his watch and consulted the time, trying to determine if he could organize one more drill with the cannons before they set out. As he flipped the watch closed, he noticed that Archie was staring at him. “What is it?” he said, a little startled.

Archie touched the watch. “You’ve kept it. All these years, and you still have it.”

Hornblower smiled. “It’s served me well. I’ve never seen a watch keep better time.” He hesitated, then held it out to Archie. “Do you want it back? It is yours, after all.”

Archie shook his head. “I gave it to you as a parting gift, and I’m not taking it back because I inconveniently happen to be alive. It’s more yours than mine at this point.”

Hornblower pocketed the watch, then held his hand out to Archie. “I’m glad to be working alongside you again, Archie. It’s been far, far too long.”

Archie grasped his hand firmly. “Indeed it has. I look forward to the impending skirmishes.”

“Do you mean between us and the privateers, or between me and Captain Drake?”

Archie laughed. “I mean the privateers. I don’t think your animosity towards Drake will last.”

 Hornblower raised an eyebrow, but was unable to comment, as Bush returned at that moment to say that the boat was ready. Nodding to Archie, Hornblower released his hand and prepared to descend. As he did so, he noticed that Drake had exited her cabin and was watching him, hands behind her back, smiling a little. When she saw him looking at her, she raised her fingers to her brow in a small salute. And after a moment’s hesitation, Horatio saluted back.


	5. The First Battle

Hornblower awoke unexpectedly the next morning to the sound of drums. Immediately realizing what was going on, he leapt out of bed and was already half-dressed when the knock sounded on his door. “Come in!” he snapped.

Bush poked his head in the door. “Privateer sighted, sir. Looks like a twelve-gunner. The _Legacy’s_ already giving chase.”

“Are we ready for battle?”

“We’ve rolled out the guns, sent the men to the rigging, and the Marines are in the process of arming themselves. We should be ready to fire as soon as we’ve caught up to the enemy.”

“Good. I’ll be up presently.” Bush saluted and turned to go. Hornblower called him back. “Mr. Bush? Who spotted the ship?”

“I’m afraid no one on board can take the credit, sir. The _Legacy_ signaled us two minutes ago to tell us they’d spotted a ship. Took us another minute to spot it for ourselves.”

Hornblower grit his teeth, but said nothing other than a “Thank you, Mr. Bush. Go arm yourself.” Once Bush disappeared, Hornblower shot into the rest of his clothes, grabbed his sword and  pistols, and rushed up on deck.

He spotted the privateer immediately; they’d gained on it considerably in the time it took him to get dressed. “Is it crippled?” he asked Bush as he climbed onto the captain’s quarterdeck.

Bush shook his head. “Not as far as we can see. It’s probably loaded down with ill-gotten gains, and that’s slowing it down.”

“Any shots fired?”

“One from the privateer, a pathetic attempt at a warning shot when the _Legacy_ asked them to identify themselves. With our two ships working in tandem, it should be easy to subdue them.”

Hornblower nodded brusquely. “Hand me the spyglass.”

A glance through the glass revealed a small ship, barely half the _Sutherland’s_ size. Hornblower swept his gaze over the masts and aft, looking for weak spots. Satisfied, he turned to Bush. “Pass the word to the gunners, Mr. Bush. Aim for their masts, and tell them to fire as they bear.”

Bush saluted and started roaring orders to the men below. Hornblower was about to close the spyglass when something occurred to him. Lifting it to his eye again, he turned towards the _Legacy_.

It took a minute or so to make out human figures on the deck, but one figure was instantly recognizable. Captain Drake was pacing the deck of the ship, occasionally pointing to someone and barking out an order. Once she’d gone the length of the ship, she turned on her heel and paced in the opposite direction, still giving orders. Midway down the deck, someone (Hornblower wasn’t sure, but it may have been Archie) ran up to her, saluted, and handed her a spyglass. She nodded, snapped it open, and turned it towards the privateer. There was a brief discussion, the man ran off, and Drake turned from the privateer. Then she paused, the glass pointing directly at Hornblower. Hornblower was startled and made to close his glass, but Drake was faster. Lowering the glass, she gave him a little wave, and although he couldn’t make out her expression, he was positive she was smirking. Hornblower swore, grateful no one was nearby to hear, and closed the glass.

A moment later, all thoughts of Drake were driven out of his head as the deck trembled under his feet and a barrage of cannon fire met his ears; the _Sutherland_ had gotten in range. Most of the shots went wide, but a few of them grazed the topsails, and one landed squarely in the middle of the privateer’s deck. He turned towards Bush again. “Not good enough, Bush!” he called, “tell the gunners to aim for the mizzenmast this time!”

“Aye sir!” Bush answered, and disappeared below to give the order personally. Just then, an answering barrage caught Hornblower’s ear, and he turned to see smoke pouring from the _Legacy_. Their volley was clearly aimed at the front of the ship, as the figurehead broke off and toppled into the sea. There were a few pitiful puffs of smoke from the privateer, aimed at the _Legacy,_ the closer ship, but it didn’t seem to have much effect.

The deck trembled again, and Hornblower turned to watch their progress. This time, their aim was true; most of the shots landed squarely on the mizzenmast. When the smoke cleared, it revealed that the top had broken off completely. “That should slow her down.” Hornblower murmured to himself with satisfaction.

 Behind him, he heard the Captain of the Marines ordering his men to ready their arms. Despite himself, he lifted the glass to his eye again and looked to see what the _Legacy_ was up to. To his surprise, it looked as if they were preparing to board the damaged ship. “What the devil?”

Bush, who had materialized from somewhere, also had a glass to his eye. “Should we join them, Captain?”

Hornblower shook his head. “We’ll draw her fire. Let’s give the boarding crew all the help they can get.”

The _Sutherland_ was now close enough to the privateer to hear the crack of pistol fire and the occasional clang of swords. Hornblower heard the crack of the Marines’ rifles and was gratified to see a number of bodies fall on the privateer’s deck. Drake’s men, meanwhile, were cutting their way towards the captain’s quarterdeck with brutal efficiency.

Bush grabbed Hornblower’s arm and pointed upwards. “Sir! Look!”

Hornblower followed his finger and saw that the privateer was lowering its colors. Ragged cheers erupted from all sides; the water seemed to echo with it. Hornblower waited until the noise had subsided a little before turning back to Bush. “Looks like a job for a crew of eight. Pick three men for the job, then go find Midshipman Davies and tell him he’ll be in command.”

As Bush moved off, Midshipman Savage ran up to him. “Sir, message from the _Legacy_! Captain and first officer request permission to come aboard.”

“Granted,” Hornblower answered, “I’ll be there to greet them personally.”

As soon as the little boat bumped against the side of the _Sutherland_ , Captain Drake vaulted over the railing, her hand extended towards Hornblower as soon as her feet touched the deck. “Excellent work, Hornblower, quite excellent! We gave her a proper drubbing!”

Hornblower took her hand and allowed her to pump it up and down several times before gently extracting it. “It was a good start, that’s for certain. Let’s hope our luck holds.”

Drake flashed him a toothy smile. “Oh, it’ll hold. Luck’s always on the side of the British Navy, isn’t it?”

“Most of the time, yes,” Hornblower conceded, “But that doesn’t mean that we should get complacent.”

“Oh, certainly not!” Drake answered, nodding briefly to Archie as he finally clambered on board, “but no French privateer can hold a candle to a ship of the line _and_ a fifth-rate!”

Hornblower turned to pay his respects to Archie, who was smiling almost as widely as Drake. “Quite the battle, eh, Horatio? Just like old times.”

“Mind your manners, Kennedy!” Drake admonished off to the side, “You may have been familiar back when you were mids, but he’s your superior now. At least make a token acknowledgment of that.”

Archie grinned sheepishly, straightened up, and saluted. “My compliments on an excellent battle, Captain Hornblower. My crew was quite impressed with your skill.”

Hornblower resisted the urge to smile. “My compliments to you as well. It was a daring move, to board the ship like that.”

“The time seemed right,” Archie answered with a shrug, “Besides, we’ve learned that boarding puts the fear of God into them much more than simple cannon fire.”

It was around this time that Hornblower realized that Archie sounded slightly out of breath. “Are you all right, Mr. Kennedy?”

“Oh yes, quite all right,” Archie assured him, wiping sweat off his forehead, “It’s just the exhilaration of battle, that’s all. It always leaves one rather breathless.”

Hornblower wasn’t sure if he should push the issue or not, but as Archie appeared to believe that had settled the matter, he tried to push it out of his mind. Captain Drake, for once, proved a welcome distraction.

“Care to hear what we discovered in the hold of the ship, Captain?” When Hornblower nodded, she ticked the items off on her fingers. “Gold, spices, a few bolts of fabric, lumber, and feathers, oddly enough. God only knows where they got all that from, but it’s certain the contents alone will fetch our crews a pretty penny.”

Hornblower gestured over to the side, where the crew he’d assembled was waiting. “My men are ready to leave at any time.”

“Excellent!” Drake nodded her approval, “I’m having my men make a few quick repairs to the ship, then they can set out.”

Hornblower excused himself and went over to Davies. “Your orders are simple, Mr.  Davies. Bring the ship into the nearest English port, then go to the Admiralty for new orders.”

Davies saluted nervously. Hornblower softened his tone a little. “Come, Davies, it won’t be that difficult. At least there’s not a great gaping hole in the ship.”

Davies gave a hesitant smile. Hornblower turned away with a brusque “Good luck to you” and returned to Captain Drake. “Think he’s capable?” she asked, looking him over, “It doesn’t look like he’s done this before.”

“He’ll learn quickly,” Hornblower responded with a shrug, “After all, we were all young once, and look at us now.”

“At the very least, we can tell a head from a halyard.” Archie murmured by his elbow. Hornblower flushed, but Drake, despite her ears, appeared not to have heard. “Eight O’clock then, Hornblower?”

“Pardon?”

“The bet! You landed the first shot, and I owe you a dinner. When do you wish to claim it?”

“Oh!” Hornblower brushed non-existent dust off his epaulettes, trying to gain a little composure. “Eight O’clock will do nicely.”

“Good,” Drake said, “Bring your first officer, and we’ll make a party out of it. Do you play cards?”

“I’ve been known to enjoy a good round of Whist,” Hornblower acknowledged, “Do you play?”

“Yes, although I’m rubbish. Kennedy’s been trying to teach me, but his saint’s patience only goes so far. Maybe you’ll have better luck at teaching me the game.”

“Perhaps,” Hornblower answered non-committaly, “I’ll see you at Eight, then.”

“After you then, Kennedy,” Drake said, gesturing to the side. As Archie swung his leg over, Drake turned back to Hornblower. “Oh, and Mr. Hornblower, don’t forget the wine.”

“I won’t.” Hornblower assured her. Despite the presence of both Archie and Bush, Hornblower suspected he was going to need copious amounts of alcohol to get through a dinner with Captain Drake.


	6. Dinner for Four

That evening, as the watch rang eight bells, Hornblower climbed into a boat, Bush at his side, and rowed over to the _Legacy_. Hornblower ran his fingers idly over the neck of the bottle he carried, hoping Drake would find it acceptable. It came from his private stock, and was the best he could afford, which, as he knew all too well, wasn’t much. Drake had probably tasted much finer wines from the spoils of privateers; he only hoped she had the tact not to say as much to his face.

Drake and Archie were there to greet him when he climbed over the side. Glancing at Archie as he shook Drake’s hand, Hornblower was pleased to see that Archie looked like his old self; his state this morning must have been due to being rudely awakened. Drake asked after his health, leading them towards her cabin as she did so. Glancing around the deck, Hornblower saw Drake’s men in various stages of relaxation; some were leaning against the railing, others were gathered together playing a sea shanty. Even the men who were working were talking and clearly enjoying themselves.

“A victory always puts them in good spirits,” Drake said, following his gaze, “and I can’t say I blame them. I enjoy the nights after a victory more than anything else. You can’t help but feel that all’s right with the world. Sometimes I even forget we’re in the middle of a war.”

“And what snaps you out of it?” Archie asked as she opened the door to her cabin.

“Generally the realization that I still have to write a report,” Drake answered, smiling a little, “But I took care of that this afternoon, in preparation for this dinner. After you, gentlemen. Just past the stateroom and through the bedroom, and we’ll be in the dining room.”

Hornblower glanced around the bedroom as he entered, noting with a touch of disdain that the place was decorated. Not that decoration was a problem, of course—his own cabin had a few personalized touches—but Drake had taken it too far. There were curtains over the windows, an elaborate trunk, a chair at the desk that was far too fancy for Naval work, and—good Lord—bows tied to the bedstead. Afraid that if he looked around too much, he’d burst out laughing, Hornblower focused on the desk, which was the most normal thing in the room. His eyes landed on a small, ornate box, which caused him to nod his head in approval; that was much more tasteful. The box was open, revealing a small, wooden ball. Hornblower was just puzzling over why such a beautiful box would have such a simple object when Drake darted forward, closing the box and taking it back to her trunk. “Go on forward, gentleman,” she said as she did so, “I won’t be a minute.”

Not wanting to disobey the host, the three men went forward, finding themselves in a much more nautical setting, which relieved Hornblower immensely. Drake appeared a moment later, all smiles. “Now then, the wine, if you please, Mr. Hornblower.”

Taking a deep breath, Hornblower handed over the wine, bracing himself for the cutting remark. Drake turned the bottle over in her hand, examining it. “Ah! I know this wine. It was my favorite, back in the day. Surprisingly good flavor, as I recall.”

Hornblower tried not to let his mouth fall open. Drake smiled as she went to uncork the bottle. “Come now, Hornblower, I haven’t always been used to drinking fine wines. I was a rising captain once too.”

Hornblower sat at the table, still not quite sure what to make of the response. Drake popped the cork and began to pour the wine. “I’m afraid, gentlemen, that it’s been a few months since our last rendezvous with a supply ship. So my ‘best’ cow is more like my fifth best cow. I hope you won’t be too put out by that.”

Assurances were quickly made, and Drake sat down with the others. Her steward brought out the meal, and Drake bid them all to eat. Hornblower was well aware that the meat was a bit tough, but on the whole, it was satisfactory. Everyone appeared to be drinking the wine with pleasure, which allowed him to relax a little; perhaps this wouldn’t be a hellish experience after all.

Conversation was limited to small talk, as if there was an unspoken agreement to not discuss business this night. Drake appeared to be on her best behavior; she didn’t boast about her past accomplishments, nor disparage Hornblower in anything she said. The worst of it was teasing Archie, but since Archie didn’t seem bothered by it, Hornblower tried not to be offended on his behalf.

Once everyone had set down their utensils, Drake clapped her hands. “Well, that was satisfying. Good food, excellent company…all that’s needed is a little entertainment.”

With that, she produced a deck of cards and shuffled them as the plates were cleared. “Whist, then, gentleman?”

“I’m not very good…” Bush protested, but Drake flashed him a smile. “Neither am I, Mr. Bush. Two against two’s a fair fight.”

Maybe it was the pleasure of losing himself in the cards, or maybe it was the wine, but Hornblower found that he was enjoying himself. Drake chattered on cheerfully, asking him questions and appearing to be genuinely interested in the responses. She was hardly a master whist player, but at least she could hold her own, which kept the game interesting.

After about five hands, Bush hesitated. “I’m afraid I’ve about reached my limit of money I’m willing to gamble away. I may have to drop out.”

“But we need four for whist!” Drake protested, “and I don’t think anyone else is ready to quit just yet!”

Hornblower was about to intervene on behalf of his friend when Drake shrugged. “No matter. To tell the truth, I’ve been losing heavily myself. Perhaps we should change the odds.”

“What on earth do you mean?” Hornblower said.

“I mean that perhaps we should bet with something other than money. Favors to each other, spare items of clothing, things like that.”

“Isn’t that rather…unorthodox?”

“This is an unorthodox ship, Mr. Hornblower. We love being different. Besides, Kennedy started it.”

Hornblower looked over at Archie in confusion. Archie laughed. “It’s true. I did.”

“I’m afraid you’ve left me completely in the dark.”

Drake started shuffling the cards. “It’s a long, and rather embarrassing, story. However, it is certainly worth the telling.”

Hornblower arched an eyebrow, wondering exactly what sort of debauchery Archie had instigated. Drake grinned at the memory and began.

“It was Kennedy’s first year as my first lieutenant. We were scheduled for an extended leave, and this would be the first time he’d seen his family since his recovery in Kingston. The leave happened to coincide with his birthday, so his ever-loving mama arranged for three balls in his honor—a welcome home ball, a birthday dinner, and a going-away ball. Kennedy here thought he should introduce me to his family, as I was, after all, his superior officer.

“I was supremely skeptical, since I didn’t want to let the entire world know about my position. I could always bring out the wig, but I was still wary; I’d been found out once, and I didn’t want it to happen again. Kennedy was convinced I could fool everybody, and so challenged me to a card game. The stakes; my presence at the welcome ball.”

Drake grinned and set down the deck. “I’m rubbish at cards in general, not just whist. I should have said no, but I guess I enjoyed the challenge. At any rate, I lost. I re-disguised myself and, with trepidation, went to the ball.”

"She was magnificent,” Archie said, picking up the story, “No one suspected a thing. She even asked a few girls to dance, and I saw at least one of them give her a coy smile afterwards. I’d say she was a great success.”

“I acquitted myself,” Drake said, adjusting her shirtsleeves, “And afterwards, I insisted I would never allow myself to do such a risky thing ever again.”

“And we all know how well that turned out.” Archie said, laughing. Drake shot him a look over her cuffs.

“At any rate, the matter seemed to be closed. Kennedy threatened to make his birthday dinner a masquerade ball instead, which would allow me to wander about with my ears exposed, but I dismissed the idea as foolhardy and ridiculous and threatened to keelhaul him if he actually went through with it…”

“ _The tongue-lashing was quite enough, thank you_.” Archie added _sotto voce_ , which caused Hornblower to hastily disguise his laugh as a clearing of his throat. Bush, meanwhile, had bit down on his lip, stifling the laughter entirely. Drake, oblivious to all this, continued her story, Archie making little editorial comments all the while.

“At any rate, he didn’t. I was invited to the dinner, but declined on the grounds of Admiralty business. But Kennedy was determined to make me regret my choice of first lieutenant…”

“ _You’d think having had dinner with me was bad enough_....”

“…And thus suggested that I come to his farewell ball…this time in a gown. I passed the idea off as ludicrous, as I didn’t have any gowns and hadn’t acted like a female in years…”

“ _Except for the compulsive redecorating_.” (Bush choked on his wine at that one).

“But Kennedy’s a clever little sod when he wants to be. He caught me at a moment when I was…shall we say, convalescing and in need of a distraction, and suggested a game of cards. I was too addled to fully understand what he was doing, and so said yes. We played for money first, then, subtly, he changed the stakes. First it was for a bottle of wine, then for who would supply the funds for our next dinner together. Before I knew it, I had lost another game…and I had just committed myself to attending the ball, in full skirts.”

Hornblower tried to picture Drake in a dress, and completely and utterly failed. Drake smirked. “Kennedy wanted to pay for the dress, but I would have none of it. If word got out that he had bought a dress for a young lady, everyone would assume he would soon be married to her. We didn’t need that sort of attention. Besides, I had the money for it.

“I went about it quite discreetly, sending in my requests and measurements by post. When the day of the fitting came, I put on my wig and the dress I’d been forced to wear at my court-martial, and went in to town. No one, thankfully, suspected a thing, and the fitting passed without incident. Kennedy, meanwhile, was kind enough to purchase a wig for me, one that would pass for a little more feminine. It was a complete surprise to me when he presented it, but since there was nothing suspicious in a man purchasing a wig, I saw nothing amiss.”

“ _I can only imagine what the shopkeeper thought I was using it for.”_ Archie murmured, fiddling with his hair. Hornblower put his wineglass to his lips to keep Drake from seeing him smile. Drake took a sip of her own wine, not bothering to hide her grin. “I honored my promise, and I went. I couldn’t breathe from that damn corset, I kept snagging the skirts with my heels, and that blasted fan kept smacking me in the face. I was announced as Amelia Cunningham, and Kennedy gave it out that he’d met me elsewhere.”

“ _My parent had their suspicions, but they were just happy I was finally looking to settle down.”_

“Incredibly, I was asked to dance. Kennedy had given me a few pointers, and I was able to make it through the steps with only a minimum of stumbling. While I don’t think I did myself any favors when dancing, I was told later that I was a ‘charming conversationalist’.

“By the time the ball was over, my chest was bruised from the corset and I was in danger of passing out from lack of air. However, Kennedy told me that no one had suspected a thing, and thus, it had been a rousing success. ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ I told him, ‘but if you ever try anything like this again, I’ll stick you up in the rigging for a few hours in the pouring rain. Either that or I’ll make _you_ wear the dress.’”

“ _And with my figure, that would be a disaster_.” Hornblower couldn’t suppress a laugh at that, and Drake smiled at him. “I’m glad I amused you, Captain. It took me much longer to see the funny side of things. Now then, are you up for a non-monetary wager?”

“What are the stakes?”

Drake considered for a moment. “Mr. Bush, how many more games are you willing to play?”

“As long as the rest of you are interested in the game, I’ll play.”

“One more game, then,” Drake said, “ _Legacy_ officers vs. _Sutherland_ officers. If we win, you have to give a dinner over at your ship once the new supply ship comes through. And if you win…” she thought for a moment, then smiled, “I’ll let your crew captain the next privateer we come across.”

“Very generous of you, Captain.”

Drake shrugged. “We had a head start on you. It seems only fair. Are the stakes satisfactory?”

“Yes.”

“Then let’s play.”

Unfortunately, Hornblower had a rotten hand, and Drake and Archie played very guardedly. Hornblower calculated the next moves in his head as best as he was able, and managed to hold his own, but he knew from the start that he was going to lose. And sure enough, after about ten minutes Archie lay his cards down flat. “My trick.”

“Well done, Kennedy!” Drake said, clapping him on the back, “I knew you had it in you!”

Archie shrugged modestly. Drake turned to Bush and Hornblower. “You both played well. My compliments on an excellent game.”

 Bush murmured his thanks, and Hornblower nodded curtly. Drake continued, “The supply ship is expected in about a week. How about planning for dinner on the Saturday after its arrival?”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Hornblower said, rising to his feet, “Thank you for an entertaining evening, Captain Drake.”

“My pleasure, Captain Hornblower,” Drake said, holding out her hand, “It’s always nice to have a bit of conversation.”

Kennedy and Bush made their goodbyes, and then the two officers prepared to depart. As they were leaving, Drake called out to them. “And Hornblower? Your man can have the next ship. The game was close near the end; it’s only fair.”

Startled, Hornblower managed to thank her, before he left her cabin. And despite himself, he smiled a little. All in all, it had actually been a satisfying dinner.


	7. A Week in the Life

On Monday, the _Sutherland_ and the _Legacy_ chased down a privateer that gave up the fight without firing a shot. Perhaps it was because it had nothing in it, perhaps the captain had been terrified to see two British ships on his tail, but the crews cheered anyway. True to her word, Drake let his men captain the ship. He signaled her his compliments, and he saw her wave at him through the glass. Satisfied, Horatio thought no more of it.

On Tuesday, there was no action. Hornblower used the time to have his men make an inventory of the ship, while he himself caught up on his correspondence. The sound of gunfire occasionally reached him, indicating that Drake was running her men through cannon drills. Since it didn’t affect his productivity, he paid it no mind, and by the time Bush came to report that everything on board was satisfactory, he had completed all the letters he intended to write, and thus mentally declared the day a success.

On Wednesday, they were fortunate to come across two privateers travelling together. It wasn’t much of a fight, but shots were fired, one of the privateers was boarded, and ultimately, both of the privateers surrendered. The cheering from the British ships seemed to echo across the oceans. Peering through the glass, Hornblower saw Drake leading her crew in the cheering, one fist punching the air. Archie was beside her, clapping and watching his captain with a grin. It made Hornblower smile to see it.

On Thursday, a British ship passed by. Captain Thomson of the _Spirit_ signaled them that a supply ship was in the area and would probably arrive at their location the next day. Hornblower immediately dropped anchor, and Drake had clearly done the same. After a brief exchange of signal flags (The _Spirit_ had moved on by then; apparently they were heading to England for leave), Hornblower went over to the _Legacy_ to plan a new course of action with Drake. He found her in high spirits at the prospect of new supplies, and their business was concluded quickly and painlessly.

On Friday, the supply ship arrived as promised. Drake and Hornblower arrived at the same time to make their requests. Hornblower, who hadn’t realized he’d grown used to Drake’s appearance, was taken aback to see her pointed ears hidden under a tousled red wig, and her chest as flat and smooth as his own. Her voice was still the same, however, and she made her requests quickly before gesturing to Hornblower to do the same. It took a moment to find his voice, then he supplied his list. Once the crew of the supply ship had moved into action, Hornblower glanced at her again in confusion, and she leaned in and murmured “Just because the Admiralty knows doesn’t mean that I want the whole Navy to know. Only those who I work with for long periods of time are privy to my shortcomings. And let me tell you, the bandages are a bloody nightmare.” Understanding, and not wanting to give the game away, Hornblower merely nodded and called for his boat.

On Saturday, remembering his obligations, Hornblower ordered his cabin cleaned, and gave the cook orders to prepare a meal with their fattest goose, and to set out the best bottle of wine. Once everything was in place, Hornblower sat at his desk, looking over papers, waiting for the sound of an approaching boat.


	8. Dinner for Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains mentions of suicide.

At Eight that evening, Midshipman Savage knocked at Hornblower’s door. “Mr. Bush’s compliments, Captain. He sent me to tell you that the _Legacy’s_ sending a boat over.”

“Thank you, Savage,” Hornblower said, standing up and starting to tidy his papers, “I’ll be up to greet them shortly.”

Savage nodded and withdrew. Hornblower made sure his cabin was in order, and after a quick check with Polwheal to make sure that dinner was progressing as planned, he came up on deck. The boat was just coming up against the side as he arrived. Nodding to Bush, he waited for Drake to appear.

Drake bounded onto the deck with her usual verve, then bent down and held out her hand to the boat below. When she straightened up, she had two bottles in her hand. Smiling, she shifted them into one arm and held out her free hand. “Well met, Captain Hornblower.”

“Well met,” he answered, shaking her hand, “What’s that you’ve got?”

“You were kind enough to provide the wine for my dinner, so I thought I’d return the favor. I couldn’t decide between the wine and the scotch, so I brought both. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. If I may, Captain Drake, I was under the impression that Mr. Kennedy would be joining us.”

“Mr. Kennedy sends his regrets,” Drake said apologetically, “He’s been overseeing the storing of the supplies, and it’s been…difficult. The poor man was clearly exhausted, and although he wanted to join us very much, he was clearly in no condition to come along.”

“Ah well,” Hornblower said, “Pass along my well-wishes when you return.”

“I shall. Mr. Bush is still welcome at the table, of course.”

Bush shook his head. “I would not want the table to be lopsided. Please, let this be a captain’s dinner only.”

“If you’re sure, Mr. Bush…” Hornblower said, a touch uncertainly. He no longer dreaded spending time with Captain Drake, but having a bit of support was nonetheless welcome. Who knew what she could get up to in a more social setting? Bush was certain, and with a shrug of his shoulders, Hornblower directed Drake into his cabin.

Drake set down her bottles on the table and sat down when Hornblower gestured towards the chair. “What have you prepared for us today, Captain?”

“Goose,” Hornblower said, “We got a fine one in the supplies.”

“I envy you,” Drake said, amused, “We did our best, but our poultry is a nightmare. That’s part of what gave Kennedy so much trouble; the damn things escaped in the storeroom. It took three men to chase them down, and one of them went over the side. I suppose it felt more at home in its natural environment.”

Hornblower laughed a little. “This one will no longer be any trouble, I assure you.”

Polwheal came in with the goose, and opened the bottle of wine. When the glasses were poured, Hornblower raised his glass. “Well then, a toast. To our continuing success in chasing down privateers.”

Drake raised her glass obligingly. Hornblower sipped; it was a very fine wine indeed. He wondered if she’d gotten it off the supply ship or if it was one of her own. It was better than what he had, that was for certain. Drake, however, made no mention of it, instead turning the conversation to matters aboard her ship. She was an excellent storyteller, and Hornblower listened with interest and amusement. When she had finished, he supplied a few stories of his own.

The goose was easily disposed of, and the wine went down easily. Before long, stories of life on ship gave way to stories of Archie. It seemed both captains had a few tales to tell. Archie was a fine first officer, but he was, in Drake’s words, “a scoundrel of the highest order. Really, I don’t know how you put up with sharing a berth with him.”

Polwheal had taken the liberty of providing a small cake for dessert, and since the wine was gone, Hornblower and Drake obligingly turned to the scotch. This time, Drake was the one who raised her glass. “To depleting the Emperor’s treasury!” she said, laughing richly. Hornblower laughed too, clinking glasses with her. The scotch, as it turned out, was very fine too.

After two glasses of scotch, Hornblower knew that he had passed the point of mild intoxication. He was now, most certainly, drunk. He put his hand over his glass when Drake offered it to him; if he held off now, he could spare himself a  lot of pain in the morning. Drake filled her glass, and Hornblower found himself considering her. He himself rarely got drunk, and when he did, he tried his best to maintain his decorum. He knew other captains and officers had no such qualms. Some grew exceedingly merry, making a joke out of everything. Some lost control completely and either fell asleep or wound up violently ill. A few became argumentative, and had to be restrained before things came to blows. Watching Drake sip from her glass, he wondered which sort she was. She had stopped talking, now, and seemed very interested in her empty plate. From time to time, she looked over at him, then looked back down. She seemed lost in thought. Hornblower decided not to intrude on her, using the time to try to gather his own thoughts and shove the more improper ones into the background.

“Have you any family, Hornblower?” Drake said suddenly, rolling her fingers around the wine stem. Startled, it took Hornblower a moment to answer. “Erm…not as such, no.”

“Not as such?” Drake repeated, arching an eyebrow in that way of hers, “That’s not exactly a clear cut answer, now is it?”

Hornblower sighed. He supposed it couldn’t hurt to tell her. “Both of my parents have passed away. I had a wife and children, but they’re gone too.”

“Oh.” Drake said flatly, before reaching out and laying a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

“It’s all right,” Hornblower said, “How could you know?” She was silent for another minute. Her next words floored him.

“I envy you, Mr. Hornblower.”

“You…but Captain Drake, how could you possibly envy me? I’m hardly one of the Navy’s best and brightest. And you’re one of the best privateers we have! I fail to see what in my life is deserving of envy.”

Drake stood up and moved to the nearest porthole, where she bent to look out of it. “Tell me, Hornblower, were your relationships with your family loving?”

Hornblower felt a twinge of guilt for Maria, but answered honestly. “I had no reason to believe that they didn’t love me.”

“Your parents loved you. You have loved, and been loved. And you can look at yourself in the mirror. _That’s_ why I envy you, Mr. Hornblower.”

“Captain Drake, I don’t understand. I cannot deny that your ears are unusual, but with time, one gets used to them. There is no reason for you to be ash…”

“Don’t you bloody dare finish that sentence!” Drake burst out, turning to face him again. Hornblower stared into her face, shocked. Her voice was angry, but her face was ashen; he had never seen pain so clearly exposed. Drake shook her head, as if trying to drive flies away. “You couldn’t know, you couldn’t possibly understand. Don’t talk to me of shame!”

“Drake, what on earth…”

“I _destroyed_ my family, Hornblower. I drove them to ruin. I as good as murdered them. You have no idea what it’s like to look in the mirror and feel the ghosts of your parents hovering over you.”

“Drake, it wasn’t your fault!” Hornblower said desperately. She looked like she was going to do herself an injury. “Nobody in the world would say that you were responsible.”

Drake laughed, harsh and mirthlessly. “Wouldn’t they? A young woman, still in the prime of life, so ashamed at giving birth to a monster, afraid that everyone will pin the blame on her, terrified that all her children will be like that, takes poison when her husband and demon child are out of the house. A fine gentleman, of excellent standing in the community, already worried for his place in society thanks to the rumors about his child, losing that place completely when the news comes that his wife took her own life, turns to drink and follows her three years later. A family, which was not wealthy but at least comfortable, a family that once had a knighthood to its name, driven into the ground, the estate sold, the possessions spread far and wide. And a young girl, left with no option, resorts to subterfuge and lies to her country in order to save her own skin, gets hauled up before a court-martial when she is discovered, is allowed to stay on only out of pity, and then looks out to sea every single day and worries that this is the day that she makes the fatal mistake. I’d say that I’m responsible!!!”

She turned back to the porthole and looked out. Hornblower saw a far off light and knew that she was looking at her ship. “That is my _real_ legacy, Mr. Hornblower. With every privateer I catch, every bit of prize money that comes into my accounts, I hope to restore my family’s name and fortune. God willing, when my day of judgment comes, that will be enough to make up for everything.”

Hornblower found himself at a loss for words. Nothing he could say seemed like it would be any comfort to her. After a moment, Drake shook her head again and turned away from the porthole. “Forgive me, Captain Hornblower,” she said with a flicker of her old smile, “My outburst was uncalled for. I should know better than to overindulge in drink.”

Hornblower cleared his throat. “Yes, well…these things can happen. Perhaps we could switch to water and cards.”

Drake went to the hangers to fetch her cloak and hat. “No, no, I’ve taken up too much of your time already. I’d best be on my way. You can keep the rest of the Scotch.”

Hornblower stood up to see her out. She remained quiet as they made their way to the deck. As she turned to climb into her boat, she reached out and put her hand on Hornblower’s arm. “I’m sorry to have spoiled your evening.” Hornblower tried to give her a reassuring smile. Perhaps knowing that he couldn’t give her an honest answer, she nodded to him and descended into her boat.

When she was gone, Hornblower returned to his cabin, where Polwheal was clearing away the plates. Hornblower flitted around the cabin awkwardly, straightening things on his desk and adjusting the chairs, before he gave orders for Polwheal to lay out his nightclothes. Once Polwheal had gone, he began to undress. Then he went to the small mirror he kept in the corner and stared at himself for a long, long time.

***

The next morning, Hornblower gave orders to signal the _Legacy_ , determined to pay her a visit. The _Legacy_ signaled back that he would be welcome, and he set out at once.

Archie was the one who stepped forward to greet him when he clambered onto the deck. “Captain Hornblower! This is a pleasant surprise!”

“I’d heard that you were poorly,” Hornblower answered, shaking his hand, “and I wanted to inquire after your health.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Archie said with a smile, “Although I won’t be in the mood for poultry for a good long while.”

Hornblower laughed, then lowered his voice. “I’ve also come to check on Captain Drake. She was in a bit of a state when she left my ship last night.”

Archie glanced over his shoulder. “She _did_ seem a bit more curt than usual. Well, you can look in on her for yourself.”

He stepped aside respectfully and allowed Hornblower to approach Captain Drake, who was standing on the quarterdeck watching the arrival with interest. Giving her a salute, Hornblower said casually, “My compliments this morning, Captain Drake, and I wanted to inquire about your health this morning. No unpleasant aftereffects from too much scotch, I hope?”

Drake held out her hand, smiling sardonically. “Nothing a brisk dunk in ice water couldn’t solve. And yourself?”

“Well enough. Will we be setting sail again today, Captain?”

“I think so,” Drake said, looking up at the sails, “The wind’s in our favor, and I’d like to try to find a merchant ship to give me any new news about privateers in the area. I’ll signal you when we’re ready to go.”

“All right,” Hornblower said, clasping his hands behind his back awkwardly, “I’ll…I’ll head back to my ship then.”

Drake nodded and held her hand out again. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” When Hornblower took her hand, she clasped it in both her own and said in a low voice, “Thank you.” Hornblower said nothing, but he knew exactly what she was thanking him for.


	9. The Vacarme

Although they were sailing alongside each other, Hornblower didn’t see Drake again for three days. Ordinarily, he’d have thought nothing of it; they each had their ships to attend to. But after that unfortunate dinner, Hornblower found himself concerned for Captain Drake. Perhaps she had spoken while under the influence of drink, but her words had most certainly come from the heart.

Now, as he thought back over all their interactions, he wondered if  it had all just been an act, a mask Drake put up to keep from breaking down in front of her crew. Were her biting remarks and flippant attitude her way of concealing her fear of failure? Was it possible that she was more reserved than she appeared? And most importantly, was there any way to reassure her that things weren’t quite so dire for her?

On the evening of the third day, the two ships came upon a merchant vessel. After an exchange of signals, _The Legacy_ dropped anchor and paid a visit, while the _Sutherland_ lingered behind. The next morning, Hornblower was woken by the news that the _Legacy_ had requested a meeting. Hornblower signaled back that he would arrive in an hour. He would be interested to see how Drake acted to him now; although her actions the day after the dinner couldn’t exactly be considered cold, they weren’t entirely normal for her either. If she continued to act strangely with him, then he’d know for sure that she was putting up a façade.

When he arrived on the _Legacy’s_ deck, he was surprised that Drake wasn’t out to meet him. Archie, however, was, and held out his hand immediately. “Good morning, Captain Hornblower.”

Hornblower shook hands. “While it is always a pleasure to see you, Lieutenant Kennedy, I am a bit surprised that Captain Drake is not here to greet me.”

Archie had a strange look on his face, a mixture of amusement and trepidation. “Something…came up. She’s in her cabin.”

Hornblower strode to her cabin and raised his hand. Before his knuckles touched wood, however, he heard a loud swearing from within. Footsteps strode faintly away from him, and a door creaked open. “James!” Drake called, her voice harsh, “Isn’t it ready yet?” The answer was apparently not to her liking, because the door slammed shut and she groaned very audibly. Curiosity overcame Hornblower, and he rapped on the door. “Captain Drake? It’s Hornblower. You sent for me?”

There was silence for a moment, then the rapid clicking of boots before the door swung open. “My deepest apologies, Mr. Hornblower,” Drake said, waving him inside, “I had forgotten that you would be arriving so soon. I was just trying to put some things in order. Please, take a seat.”

Hornblower sat down in the chair opposite her desk, watching her. Clearly something was bothering her. Her face was pale, and although she was striding about the cabin, moving things about, she walked gingerly, as though she was afraid of straining something. On top of all this, there was something different about her that Hornblower couldn’t quite put his finger on. Deciding it might be best for both of them if he started up a conversation, he began, “Did you learn anything interesting from the merchant ship last night?”

“Oh yes,” Drake said, as she picked up a few sheets of paper and carried them over to her bed, “Something I’m sure you’ll be very interested to hear. It seems…damn!”

She dropped the papers on the bed and put a hand to her stomach, groaning loudly. Hornblower got to his feet at once. “Stay, stay!” Drake said, waving a hand at him, “It’s nothing.”

“Nothing? You’re in pain! What is it?”

At that moment, the other door to her cabin opened, and a man who was clearly Drake’s steward appeared, carrying a tray that contained a cup and a large, steaming bowl. “Oh thank God,” Drake moaned, “Set it on the bedside table, James. Thank you.”

“No trouble, captain,” James said evenly, “Shall I tell Mr. Kennedy that he has the ship?”

“Yes,” Drake said, pulling off her boots, “and send him my apologies.”

“I think he understands, captain,” James said, touching his forehead and turning to go, “I’ll be back in an hour with more hot water.”

When he had gone, Drake picked up the glass on the tray and downed it in one go. She groaned again. “Foul as ever, but it will serve.” She turned back to Hornblower, who was sure that he was now looking completely bewildered. “Forgive me, Captain Hornblower. I wasn’t expecting this to happen for another day or so. It took me quite by surprise. You’ll excuse me if I conduct the rest of our conversation from the bed, won’t you?”

Hornblower, not knowing what else to say, nodded. Drake pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. As she did so, Hornblower realized what was different about her. Up till now, she had always alternated between white breeches and white trousers. But today, she was wearing black trousers. He hadn’t known she even owned a pair.

He looked back at Drake again. She had taken a cloth from the bowl and placed it underneath the covers, upon which she gave an enormous sigh of relief. And that was the moment when Hornblower put it all together. “Captain Drake, if you would rather I left you be until you have…” he cleared his throat, “well, until certain matters have been settled, I am sure the news could wait another day or so.”

Drake laughed her old familiar laugh. “I appreciate both your thoughtfulness and your discretion, Captain, but really, you have no reason to leave. The laudanum dose and the hot water will dull the pain quickly, and besides, talking to someone will help keep my mind off things.”

Hornblower cleared his throat again and leaned back in his chair. “Well, if you’re sure. What were you going to tell me?”

Drake’s eyes lit up, and she grabbed for the papers she’d placed on the bed. “This is quite interesting indeed, Mr. Hornblower. When I talked to Captain Trilby, he told me that he and other merchant vessels have seen what is undoubtedly a privateer in these waters. It’s attacked and looted a few vessels, but the most important thing is that it’s damn fast. If this keeps up, the ship’s going to become a thorn in England’s side. What a coup for us if we manage to catch it, eh?”

Hornblower grinned, overcome by Drake’s enthusiasm. “It sounds like it could be a good chase. Do we have any information about what it looks like?”

“Trilby said that it’s called _La Vacarme_. It’s relatively small—he said it was about the size of _The Legacy_ —but that it has powerful guns, the better to disarm its prey. Brown in color, tan sails, and a drum painted on the stern in black paint. It might be a bit hard to spot, but I think it’s doable. What do you think?”

“It’s a privateer, isn’t it?” Hornblower said, attempting to make a joke of it, “We’re honor bound to track it down.”

“Excellent!” Drake said, smiling at him, “I’m glad to have you on board.” A bead of sweat ran down her face at that moment, and she rolled her eyes and pulled out the cloth, exchanging it for a fresh one. “Nearly burning myself to prevent still worse pain; what is the world coming to, I ask you?”

 Hornblower wasn’t sure what to say to that. She laughed and waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s not something you would particularly want to understand. So, how shall we go about tracking down the _Vacarme_?”

“Split up?” Hornblower suggested, “We’ll be able to patrol the area in more time.”

Drake shook her head. “This is a joint effort, Mr. Hornblower. You were sent here to accompany me on my mission, and I think it best if we stick together. Besides, what if the _Vacarme_ should turn on one of us? I wouldn’t want to feel responsible for any damage done to your ship if I wasn’t there to help, even if it was just a broken off topsail.”

Hornblower nodded. “If you think so. Do you have any suggestions?”

Drake picked up a book that was lying by her side and beckoned him forward. When he was standing over her, she opened the book to reveal some nautical charts. “Trilby told me where the ship has been spotted in the past, namely, here, here, and here,” she pointed to the spots, “We’re currently over here. The _Vacarme_ is making its way along the trade route, west to east, the better to get the goods back to France. If we changed course this evening, and stayed close to the route, we could probably meet the ship halfway. Won’t he be surprised?”

Hornblower looked over the charts, considering and making the calculations in his head. “What are the wind speeds?”

She looked up at him, blinking. He explained. “It all depends on if the wind is in our favor or theirs. We could come upon them sooner than we think if the wind blows westerly.”

"Oh! Oh, yes, of course,” Drake said, shaking her head, “Stupid of me. Well then…” she pulled another paper out of the book, “The wind’s generally been out from the east. Looks like luck’s currently on the _Vacarme’s_ side.”

“Still, that only adds a few extra days to our journey. If I’m right, and luck changes loyalties, we would encounter the _Vacarme_ here, about a week from today.”

Drake paused, running her finger over the chart. “Yes, I believe you’re right. Well, shall we make that our course of action?”

“Yes,” Hornblower said decisively, “It makes sense. By your leave, Captain Drake, I’ll return to the _Sutherland_ and set the new course.”

“I applaud your enthusiasm,” Drake said with a smile, “But by _your_ leave, I would ask you to wait for a few minutes. My medicine has yet to kick in, and I would appreciate having you here to talk to until it does.”

Hornblower bowed and obligingly took his seat again. Drake smiled. “Thank you, Captain. It’s a silly request, I know.”

“I do sympathize, Captain Drake. Is it always this bad?”

“No, no, but then again, usually I’m prepared for it. But you don’t want to talk about that! What shall our plan of action be for the _Vacarme_ , when we do meet him?”

Hornblower considered. “It seems easiest to me to flank him on both sides. That way, it will be much harder for him to escape.”

Drake started fiddling with the latch of a small case that was resting on the opposite pillow. “I agree. We can hammer the decks with cannon shot, then, when the moment is right, I can board the ship.”

“Board her?” Hornblower said, “Do you think that will really be necessary?”

Drake flipped open the lid of the case and took out a small, wooden ball—the same ball Hornblower had seen the night he had come over for dinner. Rolling it around idly on the mattress, Drake continued the conversation. “Perhaps not. But my men enjoy a bit of boarding action, and truth be told, I do too. An exchange of gunfire always gets the heart racing, but boarding an enemies ship, entering the Frenchman’s territory, seems like even more of an affront to the emperor than the loss of his goods. If it’s worth the risk, therefore, I send the ropes across.”

Hornblower cocked his head. He really couldn’t find fault with her argument, but…it just didn’t seem like boarding the ship should be her default course of action. Drake picked up the ball and spun it in her hand. “I think it’s part of the reason I’m known as ‘Wildcat’, truth be told; because I fight like one. It started as a bit of a cruel joke,” she jerked her thumb up at her ears as she said it, “but I’m not one to take an insult lightly. I made sure to actually _earn_ the nickname. Now I think I’m the only one who remembers its origins.”

She laughed again, tossing the ball into the air casually. Hornblower was about to ask what the purpose of the ball was when James came back in, carrying a teapot. “More hot water, Captain?”

“Yes, please,” Drake said, nodding to him. Turning to Hornblower, she said, “I believe I can cope on my own, now. If you wish to return to your ship, feel free to do so. Just send Kennedy in if you see him; I need to tell him about the new course.”

“Of course,” Hornblower said, standing up and bowing, “Best wishes for a speedy recovery, Captain Drake.”

“Thank you, Hornblower,” Drake said, inclining her head, “Godspeed.”

On his way back to the _Sutherland_ , Hornblower turned things over in his mind. There was no doubt in his mind that Drake must have been in awful pain if she had taken to bed; the Drake he was used to didn’t seem like the sort who would let an injury stop her. But despite all that, she had laughed and joked with him, as she always did. If she could still do that through the pain, then perhaps it wasn’t a mask after all. The child who feared failure was undoubtedly there, deep underneath the surface, but the woman she had grown into had done her best to make the most of her position. The thought made Hornblower smile. He need not fear for her; after all, she knew herself better than he did.


	10. Keepsakes

Hornblower’s men, of course, were very excited that they were actively pursuing a privateer. They leapt to their orders with enthusiasm, and Hornblower allowed himself a moment of pride. Then he went to Bush and made plans for a series of cannon drills.

The _Sutherland_ and the _Legacy_ exchanged signals between each other each day, discussing wind speeds, time schedules, and when to hold cannon drills. Hornblower, out of deference to Drake, did not suggest a meeting; when she was ready, she would let him know. So when the signals called him over, two days before they would hopefully encounter the _Vacarme_ , he obligingly ordered the anchor dropped and a boat prepared.

This time, Drake was on deck, although Hornblower couldn’t help but notice that she was still wearing her black trousers. Drake looked like she had read his thoughts, because she came forward with a wry smile, hand outstretched. “You do, indeed, find me better than when we last met,” she said, before he could open his mouth, “And how are you this fine day?”

“Satisfactory,” he answered with a slight smile, “What brings me here today?”

Drake turned towards her cabin. “The _Vacarme_ , naturally. We need to definitively lay out our strategy before we arrive at the proposed spot.”

Hornblower obligingly followed her inside. She had clearly been preparing for his arrival; the map of the area was already spread out over the desk, a drawing compass and magnifying glass at the ready. But it was the corner of the desk that really caught Hornblower’s eye. Sitting in its ornate chest was that small round ball. Drake didn’t seem to acknowledge its presence, instead sitting down in her chair and gesturing to Hornblower to take a seat. “Right then, we’ve already decided to flank the bastard. But the question is, what should we do if we arrive at the spot and he’s not there? Drop anchor and try to act casually? Or sail around the area trying to find him?”

Hornblower examined the map. Due to her line of work, Drake had already outlined the trade routes in ink. “It seems to me that staying put would be best. If we don’t see the _Vacarme_ , we’re surely see a merchant ship who has. Or another privateer may make an appearance, and we can interrogate _them_.”

Drake nodded. “Sound advice. How long should we wait on the off chance that no one shows up?”

“Any number of factors could keep the _Vacarme_ from appearing. Chasing a particularly rich prize, damage to their ship, a change in wind speeds, maybe even new orders from the emperor. Five days is more than enough time, at least in my opinion.”

Drake bent over the map, compass in hand. She started muttering to herself, tapping points on the map and nodding or shaking her head occasionally. Hornblower waited for her to finish, figuring that she would have another question once she’d completed all her calculations. Then movement attracted his attention.

Drake’s left hand had reached over to the edge of  the desk, seeking, then grasping, the wooden ball. She continued tapping the map and muttering as she did so, causing Hornblower to wonder if this was an entirely involuntary act. Drake lifted the ball out of the chest and began rolling it around in her palm, before setting it on the desk and twisting it into the wood as though it were an ink blotter. Hornblower blinked, wanting to say something but not wanted to disturb her work. He was going to get to the bottom of this ball business before he left her cabin.

Finally, Drake looked up. “My apologies, Captain, but I needed to make sure I had everything worked out. I believe we will follow your course. Wait at the spot for five days, then, if we get no new information, we’ll keep sailing west until we find someone to talk to. We may miss the _Vacarme_ altogether, but there’s not much we could do about that. I think our chances are good, though, don’t you?”

Hornblower nodded. “I believe that would be the best course of action. I’m sure the _Vacarme’s_ heard of two British warships patrolling the area, but it’s a big route to cover. I doubt they’ll be expecting us.”

“Excellent!” Drake said, setting down the compass, “Well, I won’t keep you any longer. The sooner we get to our position, the better.”

Hornblower decided to be straight-forward. “If I may, Captain Drake…I’d like to ask you a question first.”

“Of course, Hornblower. What is it?”

He pointed at the ball, still resting in her hand. “What exactly is that for? I’ve seen it around your cabin several times, and it doesn’t look like a nautical tool.”

“Oh, this.” Drake said, looking down at it. Hornblower fancied that there was a slight flush in her cheek. She rolled it around her palm for a moment, then looked back at Hornblower. “It’s nothing important. At least, not to anyone but me.” She seemed to know that that wouldn’t satisfy him, because she smiled ruefully and explained.

“I’m not the first person in my family to be in the Navy. My great-grandfather was a midshipman, or whatever they called them during those days, during the great battle with the Spanish Armada. During the fight, he bent down to get something for the cannons when a shot fired from the enemy smashed into the post next to him. If he’d been standing up one moment earlier, it would have hit him instead. As it was, the splinters from the post had him out of action for the rest of the battle, and ultimately forced him out of the navy altogether. But he grabbed a souvenir of the event; the wooden ball on top of the post that had basically saved his life.

“We kept it in our family, both because it was a piece of history and because it also helped to symbolize the knighthood Harlow Drake eventually received. As a child, I was fascinated by it. I would have Father tell me the story again and again. Sometimes he would let me hold it, and I would cradle it like an egg, afraid to break it, although it was clearly quite sturdy.

“When my father died, I had our solicitor sell our home and all our possessions, which would allow me to purchase another wig, buy my midshipman’s commission, and fill my seachest. But the ball was the only thing I took with me. No one else would want it, anyway. Besides, thought the twelve-year old me, if it saved my ancestor, it might bring me luck as well. Whether it has or not is up for debate, but I keep it anyway. It’s become a perfect fit for my hand, and I bring it out every so often, sometimes for a superstitious influx of luck, sometimes just to have something to keep my hands occupied while I work on a plan of action.”

Drake had been rubbing the ball almost reverently while she spoke. She looked back at Hornblower, smirking. “Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

“Yes,” Hornblower said, “That’s quite a story. More than I was expecting out of such a simple wooden ball.”

She held it out to him. “Do you want to hold it?” she teased, “Maybe good queen Bess’ fortune can rub off on both of us and allow us to catch the _Vacarme_.”

Hornblower couldn’t deny that touching something so old appealed to him. He obligingly reached his hand out. “If you’re offering…”

The ship rocked a little under their feet. Nothing unusual, of course, but it meant that the ball, which was in the process of changing hands, slipped out of Drake’s grip and fell to the floor.

“Oh dear.” Drake said with a laugh, already bending down to retrieve it. At the same moment, Hornblower said, “Here, let me…” and began to lean down as well. But Drake was the quicker one, and she scooped up the ball and rose to her feet before Hornblower was half-way down. They met in the middle; or rather, Hornblower’s hand connected with Drake’s hair, his palm lying flat against her right ear.

Drake froze, her fingers curling a little tighter around the ball. Hornblower quickly pulled his hand away, but instead of merely lifting his hand off her head, his hand, which seemed to be acting of its own accord, slid slowly up her ear, fingers gently brushing against the pointed tip. Even through his embarrassment, Hornblower couldn’t help but notice how soft the skin was.

The moment his hand left her ear, Drake straightened, her hair slightly ruffled from the unexpected contact. She was staring at him with an expression that Hornblower couldn’t identify. She didn’t seem to be angry, although she was perfectly within her rights to be so. Rather, she seemed to be shocked. Her eyes were wide, and Hornblower got a good look at them. How had he not noticed how mercurial they were? As the light from the window played over her face, the color seemed to shift from a light green to a medium blue to a pale grey. It was a far cry from his simple brown ones.

Then Drake raised her free hand almost automatically and smoothed her hair, which snapped Hornblower out of it. “I…my apologies, Captain Drake. I had no idea you would be so quick.”

She laughed, a little breathlessly. “No harm done, Mr. Hornblower. These things happen.”

Hornblower cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I should be…heading back to my ship. The _Vacarme_ awaits, and all that.”

Drake nodded. “Well then, happy hunting, Captain Hornblower.”

“The same to you.” Hornblower said vaguely, bowing to her haphazardly before making for the door. Once outside, he cleared his throat again and called for his boat. Across the deck, Archie glanced over at him, as though he’d heard something unusual in Hornblower’s tone. Hornblower did his best to ignore him, looking out to the _Sutherland_. Once he got back to his ship, he could make sail and lose himself in the details of chasing the _Vacarme_. Drake’s expression would have no place there. None at all.


	11. Keeping Clean

Fortunately for Hornblower, he was so focused on preparing for the encounter with the _Vacarme_ that he had no opportunity to encounter Captain Drake for the next two days. And although sometimes in his off-hours he remembered their last meeting, it grew easier and easier to shake it out of his mind.

The two ships arrived at the meeting place at Eight in the morning. A fog blanketed the area, but it cleared up by noon, at which point the crews discovered that the _Vacarme_ was nowhere to be seen. Hornblower doubted very much that the ship had slipped past them in the fog, and reassured his men of the same. Prepared to wait, the _Sutherland_ dropped anchor and set about cleaning and tidying the ship. Bush directed these activities with his usual effective brusqueness, while Hornblower looked on, nodding in approval.

A cheerful shout from across the water attracted his attention. Pulling out the spyglass, he saw that the _Legacy_ had dropped anchor as well, and the activity on deck didn’t seem to indicate that they’d spotted a ship. Puzzled, he moved to the edge of the quarterdeck to get a better look, debating whether or not to ask Savage to signal the _Legacy_ or not. Sweeping the glass over the _Legacy’s_ decks, he saw a lot of her crew gathered on deck, facing inwards and looking quite amused about something. Curious, Hornblower was just about to call over his shoulder to Savage when the next sight in the glass made his voice die in his throat.

Captain Drake had just emerged from her cabin, wearing a heavy white dressing gown and apparently not much else. She passed through the crowd, speaking to them in a low voice. Hornblower couldn’t hear her, of course, but whatever she said made them laugh loudly enough to be heard on the _Sutherland_. She had a towel draped over her arm, and there was absolutely no doubt in Hornblower’s mind what she was up to. He blinked, shook his head, then put the glass back to his eye. What was she _thinking_? Perhaps her crew had gotten used to serving under her, but surely they weren’t _that_ blasé about her?

Drake had now reached the end of the ship. Archie was waiting for her there, leaning on the railing and, as far as Hornblower could tell, looking deeply amused about the whole thing. Drake climbed up onto the railing, handed Archie the towel, shook her finger at him as she gave her orders, then, without further delay, dove overboard, causing another cheer to rise up from her men.

Hornblower tore his eye away from the scene and looked back over his own ship. His crew appeared to be completely oblivious to what was going on across the way, too wrapped up in following their orders. Hornblower was both glad of it and a bit puzzled as to why they wouldn’t be the least bit curious about what their counterparts were finding so amusing. Then another laugh attracted his attention, and he couldn’t help but put the glass back to his eye.

Drake had surfaced again, her hair now flat against her head, making her ears stand out in even sharper focus. But what really caught Hornblower’s attention was her attire. She was still wearing the dressing gown, but it had opened up a little, revealing the soft curve of her shoulders and giving him a good glimpse of her collarbones. Hornblower swallowed, the memories of their last encounter returning full force. He knew he should set down the glass and turn back to keep an eye on his crew, but something was keeping him frozen in place.

Drake dove underwater again, remaining below for a good minute and a half. When she resurfaced, she was grinning, looking distinctly satisfied with herself. Hornblower’s fingers tightened on the glass. She lifted her hand and waved up to her crew, who had all gathered around the railing to look down at her. There was another loud laugh. Hornblower turned his glass up to Archie, who had folded his arms on the railing and was looking down at his captain with playful affection, grinning his familiar grin. Seeing it, Hornblower couldn’t help but remember the time on the _Renown_ , when it had been blazing hot and Hornblower had decided to cool off in the only way that made sense at the time. He felt his face burn at the memory, and realized that he couldn’t berate Captain Drake for her bathing habits without coming across as a hypocrite.

(Much later, Hornblower got up the nerve to ask Archie about it. He laughed a little and said “Oh, normally she bathes in her cabin. But after a week of, as she puts it, ‘convalescing’, she feels a more thorough soaking and cleaning is in order. The men are amused by it, of course, but they’d have been amused by your little bath on the _Renown_ as well. They don’t see her as a woman during these times; they’ve learned to look past that.” Hornblower was relieved by the news, although he was embarrassed to discover that his sense of being a hypocrite was absolutely true.)

After one more dive, Drake apparently decided that she’d had enough, and waved up to the deck once more. A rope was produced for her, and she grasped it firmly and hauled herself out of the water. Her dressing gown was still on, and now had been tied firmly around her waist to prevent any undue exposure. Whatever the gown was made out of, it was thick enough to remain opaque and not reveal anything scandalous. Hornblower couldn’t help but notice, however, that it was now clinging to her body, revealing the curves of her hips and bunching up just so around her…

With a tremendous effort, Hornblower tore his eyes from the glass and snapped it shut. Taking a few deep breaths, he turned back to _his_ deck. “Mr. Bush!”

Bush turned towards him. “Yes, Captain?”

“I shall be in my cabin. Fetch me when the cleanup is done, the _Vacarme_ is spotted, or if the… _Legacy_ should signal.”

Bush didn’t seem to notice Hornblower’s aggravated state. He merely touched his hat and said “Aye-aye, sir.” Hornblower nodded curtly and walked briskly to the safety of his cabin. Merely shaking his head wasn’t going to get the thoughts out of his head this time; this called for a stiff drink or three.


	12. Ambush

Hornblower did not pass a pleasant evening. A few drinks and a lot of vigorous mental denial did nothing to shake the odd fascination he’d had with Captain Drake that afternoon. Finally, as he prepared for bed, he looked at himself in the mirror and allowed himself to face facts. _It may just be because I’ve spent so much time with her_ , he thought, _but it appears that I’m fascinated by her. It does me no good to ignore that; all I do is lose focus on my ship. When I next see Captain Drake, I’ll find a way to bring up the topic with her. Then we’ll see where we go from there._ It didn’t entirely satisfy him, but it seemed the best course of action. And at least it allowed him to push Drake from his mind as he climbed into bed.

When he awoke at eight bells the next morning, he called for Bush and asked for a report. “No sighting of the _Vacarme_ as yet,” Bush said, shaking his head, “Although it would be hard to spot her, the weather being what it is. I suppose this area suffers from foggy mornings.”

“Well, keep a sharp ear out,” Hornblower said, accepting a cup of coffee from Polwheal, “The last thing we want is for the _Vacarme_ to slip by us.”

“Aye-aye, sir.” Bush said, touching his hat and leaving the cabin. Hornblower quickly finished his morning preparations and came up on deck, wanting to be present should the _Vacarme_ show herself.

Bush hadn’t been exaggerating. He could only see about half-way down the deck before things were shrouded by grey clouds. Making his way to the quarterdeck, he found Bush once more. “Perhaps we should contact the _Legacy_ ,” he said, “The fog may be clearer on their…”

At that moment, a gunshot echoed across the deck, and Hornblower jumped backwards as splinters of wood rained down from the topsails. “Those cocky bastards!” Bush growled, grabbing onto the railing and peering uselessly forward, “They’re trying to get the drop on us in the fog!”

“BEAT TO QUARTERS!” Hornblower yelled, “I want the men with the sharpest eyes up in the masts! We need to figure out where they’re coming from!”

The crew sprang into action, their movements a little less orderly than usual; fighting blind wasn’t something they were used to. Hornblower swore quietly and ran for his cabin to fetch his pistols. When he reemerged, he could tell that the cannons had been rolled out. “Any sign of them?” he called up to the masts.

“A few glimpses of them off the starboard side, but we can’t be certain where they’ve gone!” came the response. Hornblower cursed again. Hiding in the fog was a popular trick by Frenchmen and British alike, but the _Vacarme’s_ audacity was breathtaking. Weighed down with ill-gotten goods, probably outnumbered and outgunned, and they chose to attack the larger ship in the fog instead of quietly slipping by. He might have admired the tactic if he wasn’t so outraged.

Another cannon shot sounded, this one further off. Even without seeing who it was, Hornblower had the feeling that the shot had come from the _Legacy_. He managed a slight smile; at least his ally was doing her best to help.

Due to the lack of sun, Hornblower wasn’t entirely sure of the passage of time. All he knew for certain was that their shots weren’t landing, but the _Vacarme’s_ certainly were. So far, there was no serious damage, but that was likely to change. His only hope at the moment was that the fog would lift and allow both the _Sutherland_ and the _Legacy_ a clear shot.

Suddenly, something thudded onto the deck. Hornblower looked up; through the fog, he caught sight of a set of masts. “The fool’s trying to board us!” Bush said, sounding both angry and amazed, “Men, cut the ropes!” But the order came too late. Just as the men reached the rope, others began landing on the deck, and Hornblower could see the _Vacarme_ coming closer. They were going to have to fight at close quarters, it seemed. Hopefully the _Vacarme_ wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to sink the ship.

 With a shout, Frenchman jumped across the gap and drew their swords. Hornblower could hear the sounds of the marines springing to action. He cocked his pistol and fired into the crowd, hoping to at least hit one of them. Down below, his men were already tussling with the intruders. He knew his men had more training, but these men, despite their offensive stance, were the ones who were cornered. They had more fight in them, and much more motivation to stay alive. This was anything but an ideal situation.

If they wanted to have any hope of repelling the boarders, they needed every man they could get. Hornblower took a deep breath and drew his sword. “Come, Mr. Bush!” he called, “Let’s show these Frenchmen why it was a mistake to board a British vessel!” With that, he rushed down the stairs and managed to cut down the first Frenchman who ran up to him. He heard a ragged cheer from his men, but didn’t pay much attention; now, it was a matter of survival more than a matter of pride.

Hornblower’s mind seemed to shut off after that. He knew which men were his and which were the enemy’s, when to avoid blows and when to stab, but he lost track of everything else. He didn’t know what was happening to his men, if cannons were firing, or even if the weather had changed. All he knew for certain was that he was alive, and that he would be damned if he would surrender to these ruffians. So he kept up the fight.

Suddenly, a cheer rang out from the men surrounding him and brought him back to himself. Even as he ran through another Frenchmen, Hornblower became aware of still more men climbing onto the _Sutherland_. But these men were wearing British uniforms and black armbands. “The _Legacy_!” someone called joyfully, “They’ve got her surrounded!”

Hornblower’s men, who already had plenty of fight in them to begin with, redoubled their efforts. The Frenchmen, startled, appeared to be putting up less of a fight. Hornblower cleared a path to the nearest _Legacy_ man. “Where’s your ship?” he called.

Even as he lashed out at a Frenchman, the man still had the presence of mind to salute. “She flanked the _Vacarme_ , Captain! We boarded her, and Captain Drake sent some of us over to help you clear the decks!”

“Much obliged!” Hornblower responded, turning back to the matter at hand. Sparing a glance upwards, he noticed that the fog was thinning. _Too little, too late_ , he thought angrily, before seeking out another Frenchman.

“ _Hommes du **Vacarme**!” _ A familiar female voice called out, voice distorted by a speaking trumpet, “ _Votre Capitaine rend votre navire_ _à la Marine Angleterre! Baissez votre armes!”_

The Frenchmen hesitated, then dropped their swords. “Put them in irons!” Bush roared, and the _Sutherland’s_ crew sprang into action at once. Hornblower sheathed his sword and sought out his first officer. Bush was breathing heavily, but otherwise seemed unharmed. “Mr. Bush! Have some of the men look over to the damage to the ship. And give orders for the injured to be sent to the infirmary.”

“Aye, sir,” Bush said, touching his hat, “Are you all right, Captain?”

“Fine,” Hornblower said curtly, turning away to oversee the removal of the boarding hooks, “Give me a report of the dead and injured as soon as possible, if you please.”

Through the clearing fog, Hornblower spotted someone vaulting the gap between ships. Having an inkling of who it was, he came forward to greet her.

Drake landed on deck, face flushed and eyes glittering with triumph. “We got them, Hornblower!” She said, holding out her hand as he approached, “They won’t be bothering us again! Serves them right after such a cowardly action!”

  
As Hornblower shook her hand, he noticed a gash on her arm. “You’re injured. Perhaps you should return to the _Legacy_ and have it seen to before we plan a course of action.”

Drake glanced at her arm and shrugged. “This? It’s nothing. One of the Frogs got in a lucky cut. It can wait a few minutes while I collect my men. How badly did they hit you?”

Hornblower glanced around his ship. “I won’t know for sure until the fog fully dissipates, but they did some damage to our masts and probably raked the sides with cannon shot. We should be able to repair it fairly easily.” He shook Drake’s hand again. “Thank you for coming to our aide, Drake. Your men arrived at just the right moment.”

Drake winced as she caught sight of a hole in the deck. “Not soon enough, I’m afraid. We had no idea the _Vacarme_ was there until she fired the first shot. Even though we turned towards the sound immediately, they’d started boarding you by the time we arrived on the scene.”

“It couldn’t be helped,” Hornblower said, “They completely got the drop on us. They’ve learned how to be completely silent in the fog. Maybe we should ask the Captain for his secrets.”

Drake laughed. “He’s not going to talk to us for awhile. He’s livid. You should have seen the look on his face when he saw who was asking for his sword.”

Hornblower couldn’t suppress a smile. “That just makes the victory all the sweeter, doesn’t it?”

“Oh, yes,” Drake said, looking around the deck, “When he finally gets back to France, the other officers will never let him live it down. And he had such a good reputation too.”

Hornblower noticed a _Legacy_ man leaning against one of his own crewmen. “Captain Drake, I offer you my infirmary for your injured men. It’s the least I can do after you came to our aid.”

 “Much appreciated, Captain,” Drake said with a smile, “But I’ll still try to get those with minor injuries back to the _Legacy._ Your infirmary’s probably going to be full en…”

 Her voice died in her throat. Hornblower looked back at her, startled. The color had drained out of her face, and her eyes were wide with horror. “Oh no. No.” she said in a whisper.

Before Hornblower could ask her what was wrong, she muttered a rushed “Excuse me, Captain.” and took off at a run down the deck. Hornblower followed her, heart pounding; what could possibly have terrified her? And then, as the sun finally made an appearance, he saw it.

Lying on the deck, in a small pool of blood, was a man wearing the _Legacy’s_ black armband. Hornblower’s blood ran cold when he saw the blond hair. “Oh God…”

Drake had crouched down besides her first officer, hand on his chest, trying to find a heartbeat. “Kennedy? Kennedy? _Archie!!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French, Translated, means "Men of the Vacarme! Your Captain has surrendered your ship to the British Navy! Lower your weapons!"


	13. Vigil

“Well, Doctor?” Hornblower demanded as the doctor pushed open the curtain. Beside him, Drake, her arm bandaged, stood stiff as a board, waiting for an answer. The doctor looked pensive. “He’s still alive, but he’s lost a fair amount of blood. We’ll have to see how he is tomorrow before I can say anything one way or another.”

“What happened?” Drake said curtly.

“He was stabbed once in the shoulder and once in the side,” the doctor said, indicating the position of Archie’s wounds, “Not a surprise, really, considering his condition.”

“Condition?” Drake’s voice was sharp, “What condition?”

The doctor looked at her, puzzled. “You mean you didn’t know? I assumed he’d informed you!”

The look on Drake’s face made Hornblower clear his throat. “If you please, Doctor, I would like to be informed of this condition for myself.”

“As I was bandaging Mr. Kennedy’s shoulder, I listened to his breathing. Even though he was asleep, his breaths were shallow and a bit irregular, in a way that had nothing to do with his injuries. It seems to me that he has some condition that hampers his breathing. An old injury, perhaps?”

Hornblower remembered, almost against his will, the moment all those years ago when he tore open Archie’s coat and was confronted with the gaping wound in his chest. “Yes,” he said, “He was shot near the lungs. He’d told me the bullet only grazed it.”

“Be that as it may, it did him some harm. It might not matter so much in day-to-day matters, but when he over-exerts himself—such as running around in the heat of battle—it makes it harder to draw breath. I imagine that being stabbed in the shoulder would make it even harder to get air into the lungs. As such, it left him open for another attack.”

Hornblower looked back at Drake. The look of horror on her face made his heart turn over. “Thank you, Doctor,” she said quietly, “I’ll let you tend to your other patients, but I’ll be back to look in on my officer.” She turned on her heel and strode out of the infirmary, hands curled into fists behind her back. Hornblower dismissed the man and hurried after her.

He found her up on deck, hands flat against the railing, head hanging. “Captain Drake?” he asked softly. Up close, he could see that she was trying to prevent herself from shaking, but the tremors in her arms gave her away. “I didn’t know, Hornblower,” she said softly, “He didn’t tell me.”

“Maybe he didn’t know himself,” Hornblower said awkwardly, “Or maybe he didn’t think it would matter.”

“Not matter?” Drake said with a short laugh, “We board the ships we intend to take. Surely he’d have realized that he’d be running into places where he’d be ‘over-exerting himself’. I should have known, I should have seen…”

“It…it’s not your fault.”

“It is a captain’s duty to know everything important that goes on in his ship,” Drake said in a near monotone, “And I failed that. He’s my first lieutenant! I dine with him regularly! How did I not see…?” she shook her head. “I sent him over to help you. ‘Kennedy! Go and lend your old friend a hand!’ I said. I should have left him on _The Legacy_. Why risk the two senior officers?”

Hornblower reached his hand out, then hesitated, unsure if she would throw off the touch or not. Drake was silent for a moment. Then she said, her voice even but strained, “I must return to the _Legacy_ to look in on my men and assess the damage. When I’m finished, I will return here to monitor Kennedy’s condition. That is, if you’ll allow it.”

“Of course,” Hornblower answered quickly, “I could have a meal prepared for you, if you wish.”

“I’ll have something in my cabin, thank you,” she said, straightening up, “And Hornblower, choose the men you wish to send to the _Vacarme_. Pick a good man to captain it; she looks like a bit of a handful.”

“But Captain Drake, it’s your turn to captain a prize.” Hornblower was nonplussed, “And besides, you were the one who captured it.”

“I know.” she said, looking at him for the first time. Her expression was similar to the one he had seen in his cabin during that unfortunate dinner, and Hornblower took an involuntary step back. Drake continued, “But it would be better for your men to command it. Even though no one will hold it against you that you were surprised in the fog, it will still look better in the Admiralty reports if you are the one who brings the ship in. I doubt there will be an inquiry, but we must take every precaution.”

Hornblower started; in the midst of Archie’s predicament, he had forgotten all about that side of things. “I…yes. You’re right. Thank you. I…”

Drake turned away. “I’ll be back later this evening. Send a boat or a signal if there’s a change in Kennedy’s condition.”

With that, she returned to the side of the ship and hopped across to the _Vacarme_ , which was still attached to the _Sutherland_. Hornblower watched her go, realizing that the anxiety he felt wasn’t just for Archie.

***

True to her word, Drake came back just as night fell. By then, the _Vacarme_ had been disentangled and sent to England, Hornblower had received a report of the damages, and the dead had been buried. Archie, mercifully, was not among them. Hornblower had looked in on him occasionally, but there hadn’t been much of a change. He told Drake as much when she came aboard, and she nodded. “That’s some good news, I suppose,” she said, following him to the infirmary, “but we won’t know for sure until the wee hours of the morning.”

“I will be happy to signal you if…”

“No need,” Drake said, pushing aside the curtain and taking a seat next to Archie, “I already gave orders to Yarrow, my second lieutenant. He has the ship tonight. I’m staying here.”

Hornblower knew that he couldn’t dissuade her otherwise. He merely nodded. “I’ll look in when I can.”

When he turned, he saw Drake reach into the small box she’d brought along. He’d assumed it was paperwork for writing her report. But when he saw her take out her small wooden ball, he found he wasn’t all that surprised. As he left the infirmary, Drake tucked the ball into the crook of Archie’s elbow.

As much as he wanted to follow Drake’s example, Hornblower had a ship to run. He wrote his own report, took a light supper, and oversaw the repairs to the main topsail. Then it was time for him to retire. He looked into the infirmary before doing so. Drake was still there, sitting by Archie’s hammock, her hand on his chest to monitor his heartbeat. She looked up when Hornblower pushed aside the curtain, and shook her head; no change. He nodded and pulled the curtain closed once more.

Hornblower didn’t remember falling asleep, his mind full of memories of both Archie and Drake. But he suddenly bolted awake at a rapid pounding on his door. “Come in!” he barked, feeling dread wash over him. No one would be knocking on his door when it was still dark out, unless an enemy had been sighted, or…

One of the powder boys stuck his head in the door. “Beggin’ your pardon, Captain, but I was told by Captain Drake to send for you as quickly as possible. Mr. Kennedy’s in a bad way.”

“What sort of bad way?” Hornblower said, leaping out of bed and looking around for his clothes.

“She says he’s still alive,” the boy said, “But he’s…covelsing?”

Hornblower froze. Swallowing, he nodded to the boy. “Thank you. I’ll be along at once.”

He arrived at the infirmary with his jacket mis-buttoned and his belt unfastened, but couldn’t find it within himself to care. Drake was on her feet, holding Archie down by the shoulders. “Damn it, Archie! You’re better than this! Fight it!”

Archie was shaking violently, so violently that he might have toppled out of his hammock if Drake hadn’t been pinning him. Hornblower came forward. “One of his fits,” he said softly, “I should have guessed it might happen.”

Drake swallowed. “He told me about _them_ , at least. He said he hadn’t had one in a long time, but that he was more prone to them in times of great stress. I guess I thought…since he was asleep…that he wouldn’t…”

Hornblower touched her back lightly. “Things like these can be unpredictable. It’s not your fault.”

“Oh God!” Drake cried, looking down at Archie again. Hornblower saw it too; the small pool of blood that was blossoming across the bandages on Archie’s shoulder. “He’s opened his stitches,” Drake said, sitting down and putting both hands on top of the wound, “But we won’t be able to get them re-sewn until he calms down.”

Hornblower came to the other side of the hammock and placed a hand on Archie’s shoulder to keep him in place. With his other hand, he pulled up Archie’s shirt. The stitches on his side seemed to be holding, at least. Hornblower looked over at Drake, who was pressing down on the wound with all her might, watching Archie’s face intently. Hornblower reached over and put his hand on top of hers, adding his weight. She glanced at him, then nodded her understanding. Then she slid one of her hands out and lay it on top of his, fingers curling lightly around it. Hornblower didn’t say anything, but he gave her a small smile. Then the two of them turned their attention to Archie.

“Come on, Archie,” Drake murmured, “lay your demons to rest. They can’t hurt you here.”

Hornblower brushed the hair out of Archie’s face. “It’s all right, Archie. Just try to breathe.”

How long they stayed like that, Hornblower didn’t know. All he knew was Archie finally gasped and went limp, his shaking stilled. Horatio put a hand to his chest; the beat was far too frantic for his liking, but it was beating. He nodded to Drake, who exhaled audibly. Hornblower straightened up, moving on stiff legs, and called for the doctor.

The doctor nodded his approval when he removed the bandages. “It could have been much worse,” he said, picking up a needle, “But you stopped the flow before he lost much more.”

Drake looked at her hand, which had been soaked crimson, and made a derisive noise. The doctor urged her to dip her hands in the basin he had set next to Archie, then looked up at Hornblower. “We’ll have to see, of course, but he’s survived the night. There’s a good chance he’ll wake up. But both of you have been here long enough. Leave me to my work and I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

Drake visibly swayed when she stood up, and Hornblower knew that her energy was completely drained. Her pace was still steady as she left the infirmary, but she was in desperate need of rest. “Captain Drake,” Hornblower said when they reached the deck, “Archie’s in good hands. You should look to yourself.”

“Yes…” Drake said, shaking her head to clear it, “Of course. I’ll call my boat.”

 Hornblower held out a hand. “Why make it harder on yourself? I offer you the use of my cabin. You can sleep there for a few hours while we wait for the doctor’s report.”

She seemed surprised. “Very kind of you, Hornblower, but I disturbed your rest. Surely you could use some sleep yourself?”

 “I managed a few hours,” he said, “I’ll be fine. Besides, I have to look over the repairs to my ship. Please, Captain, as a favor?”

She thought for a moment, then gave him a slight smile. “All right, Captain, if you insist.”

He led her to his cabin and opened the door for her. “Oh, stop it, Hornblower,” she said with a bit of her old verve, “I’m tired, not incapacitated. I can open my own doors.” To prove her point, she pushed the door closed behind her. Hornblower couldn’t help but smile. Then he went down to the galley to inform Polwheal that Captain Drake would be sleeping in his cabin and to serve breakfast on the quarterdeck this morning.

Bush had done an admirable job at the repairs. It had been almost twenty-four hours since the _Vacarme_ attacked, and you could barely see the damage she had caused. He gave Bush his sincerest compliments. “Thank you, sir,” Bush said, touching his hat, before looking around and lowering his voice. “If I may, sir…how is Mr. Kennedy?”

 “Stable,” Hornblower said, “But it’s still too soon to tell.” Bush nodded and didn’t ask more.

As was to be expected, the morning was foggy. Hornblower cursed and pulled out his watch to check the time. When he saw the silver gleaming dully in his hand, he swallowed and put it back without consulting the time. Clearing his throat, he did another examination of the ship.

An hour later, he carefully pushed open the door to his cabin; he needed to fetch his spyglass. Drake had thrown her jacket over the nearest chair, and her boots were sprawled on the floor. She was lying on her side in the bed, one hand dangling over the edge. Hornblower paused and looked at her. She looked at peace, a little smile on her lips. Hornblower’s heart softened a little at the sight. Resisting the urge to touch her hair, he grabbed his spyglass and left her to her sleep.

The watch had just rung ten bells when the doctor appeared on deck. Hornblower felt himself visibly relax when he saw the man smiling. The doctor’s first words confirmed things; “He just opened his eyes. Wants to know where he is. I think _you_ should tell him.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Hornblower said, hands clasped firmly behind his back to stop them from shaking, “I will.”

Archie’s face was far too pale, and he was lying prone rather than sitting up, but he gave Hornblower the old smile when he entered. “Captain Hornblower! This _is_ a surprise! Has word gotten round about my injury so quickly?”

“You’re still on the _Sutherland,_ Archie,” Hornblower said, taking a seat, “It was too risky to try to move you, after you fell unconscious from your lung injury.”

Archie had the decency to look chagrined. “Oh, bugger. You know.”

“Why didn’t you _say_ something, Archie? Rushing into things like this was the height of foolishness!”

“It’s never been this bad before,” Archie said, “Truly. I didn’t expect the fighting to be quite so brutal.” Something must have occurred to him, because he looked up at Hornblower guiltily. “Captain Drake…?”

“She knows too.”

Archie cursed again. “She’ll be shouting at me for an hour when she gets me back to the _Legacy._ ”

“She’s been worried for you, Archie. She didn’t leave your side all night.”

“Really?” Archie blinked at that, “Well then. Where is she?”

 “She was exhausted. I lent her my cabin.” Archie laughed a little. “What, pray, is so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing. If she’s awake, do you think you could coax her my way? Maybe I can get her to expend some of her anger.”

 “I’ll see,” Hornblower said, standing up, “And Archie? I know it’s beyond your control, but thank you for waking up.”

Archie touched his forehead. “It’s the least I can do.”

Hornblower hurried to his cabin and tapped on the door. “Captain Drake? Are you up?”

“Come in, Hornblower. This is your cabin, after all.”

Hornblower pushed the door open and saw Drake buttoning up her coat. “Thank you for the use of your bed,” she said, “It was only three or four hours, but I can live on that. How’s Archie?” she continued, a slight edge to her voice.

“He’s awake,” Hornblower said, unable to stop himself from smiling, “The doctor says he’s going to be all right.”

Drake looked at him, a bright gleam slowly coming into her eyes. “Alive,” she said, “Oh, thank God.”

Hornblower placed a hand on her shoulder. “You can see him, if you wish. He was asking about…”

He never got the chance to finish his sentence, because Drake suddenly stepped forward, placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed him full on the mouth.


	14. Changes

Hornblower wasn’t sure how to respond to the kiss. Part of him, of course, was shocked that she had done such a thing. But the other part of him—the part that had responded when he’d seen her bathing—couldn’t help but feel a little satisfied.

Drake pulled away a moment later, her face flushed. “My deepest apologies, Hornblower,” she said, turning away from him and running her hands through her hair, “I was…overcome.”

Hornblower took her wrist gently. “Look at me, Captain. Please.”

She looked back at him. He smiled a little. “I was not opposed to that kiss.”

Her expression was completely unreadable. “You weren’t?”

“I…” Hornblower couldn’t quite look her in the eye as he said it, “I’ve found myself of late…thinking about you.”

She seemed to grasp his meaning, because when he looked at her again, her eyes had widened slightly. “Do you mean that?”

“Yes,” Hornblower answered, feeling himself blush, “I wasn’t entirely sure what I should do about it. But now that you’ve made the first advance, I suppose that makes it easier to talk about.”

Drake gestured to his desk. “I think we should sit down for this.”

Hornblower agreed and took a seat. Drake took the chair opposite and leaned forward, folding her hands. “It seems only fair to begin by saying that I’ve grown fond of you as well.”

“I’m honored.” Hornblower said, unable to stop himself from admiring the new blush on her cheek. Drake raised her head a little and looked directly into his eyes. Her expression was surprisingly stern. “How far does your fondness go?”

 “Pardon?”

 “Is this a pleasant diversion for you until your next shoreleave? Or are you serious enough that you would consider courtship?”

Hornblower cleared his throat, giving him time to choose his words. “I am not a man who enters into these sorts of things lightly, Captain Drake. I would not have even brought the subject up if I wasn’t willing to enter some sort of commitment. So yes, I was considering courtship.”

Her eyes actually narrowed. “Are you sure you want to go down this path, Hornblower?”

He reached out and lightly touched his fingers to her arm. “You’re hesitating, Captain Drake. Voice your concerns all at once and let’s not drag this out.”

She nodded. “Yes, you’re right. I’m sorry, I’m still trying to fully grasp our situation here.” Hornblower nodded and looked at her, waiting for her to begin. After a minute’s silence, Drake spoke, her eyes fixed on a point over Hornblower’s shoulder.

“It’s not that I’m disinclined towards you—far from it—but I need to think of the future, yours as well as mine. Here, on the trade routes, with no other ships around, it may seem simple. But there are two forces at work that would make the reality of what we’re suggesting much more complicated. To begin with, there’s the Admiralty. They have charged me to behave as a proper, male, British officer. I must follow the same rules, and face the same consequences. That is especially true when it comes to the Articles of War.”

Hornblower knew at once what she was referring to. “That wouldn’t stop us from writing letters to each other. We’d have to do that anyway, once we went our separate ways. And when the war ends…”

“…then we encounter the second force, one which is much more powerful than any Admiral of the fleet. Society is not kind, Horatio, not to those who violate it in some way. I’m tolerated out here because I’m successful. When I resign, I will have two options; retire quietly to some country home and live out my days on my prize money, or hope that my fortune and my former name is enough to allow the world to overlook my defects. Because I _will not_ put on the wig and live a lie again. Better to raise my head, take what comes, and hope for a happy outcome than live in perpetual fear of my secret being discovered. And if I have you…then that makes my future a little safer.

“ _Your_ future, however, would be at risk. I need you to understand this, Hornblower. You’re a rising captain, and you’re damned talented. You’re almost certain to get ahead in the Navy. But all that means is that, once on land, you’ll have more duties and obligations to Society. And Society will look much more kindly on you if you have a wife gracefully hanging off your arm. While I would be more than willing to fulfill that duty, Society would be horrified. A man of such fine standing and promise, willingly chaining himself to a…a damaged individual such as myself? Unheard of! The Admiralty may not think less of you for it, but Society most certainly will. No matter what you and I tried to do, they would always look at us askance. We would never be fully accepted. I am prepared for that, but I am not willing to drag you down with me. I care too much for that.”

She lowered her head again and looked down at her hands, her shoulders falling. Hornblower watched her, his mind processing all that she’d told him. Then he stood up and came round to her end of the desk. “Captain—Amelia—I understand your arguments, and I understand and sympathize with the things you’ve endured that make you feel that way. I also firmly reject them.”

She gasped audibly and looked up at him. He crouched down and took her hand. “When I first joined the Navy as a skinny, seasick boy of seventeen, I was painfully shy. Friends were not easy to come by. If it wasn’t for Archie Kennedy, I might have driven myself mad.”

She smiled a little at that. Encouraged, Hornblower pressed on. “But when Archie was gone, I had to learn, quickly, to overcome my shyness, because the Navy had no patience for that sort of behavior. I don’t deny that I still have some of those tendencies, but it’s become easier and easier to keep them at bay. Do you understand my point?”

There was a moment’s silence. Then Amelia slowly got to her feet, dragging Hornblower up with her. “I understand you, Hornblower, I really do. But Society…”

“You took off your wig here in the Navy, and most everyone seems to accept you for who you are. I think society is just going to have to get used to you, because you have just as much right to be there as I do.”

Amelia’s smile warmed him to the core. “Thank you, Horatio. You have a way with words.”

“I just felt they needed to be said,” he answered, his heart starting to pound again as Amelia slid her arms around his neck and drew herself close, “And now that they’ve been said, what do you want to do?”

“I make no promises,” she said as she put her lips against his again, “But I believe a courtship is worth trying out.”

***

Amelia eventually left Hornblower’s cabin to pay a visit to Archie. Hornblower remained at his desk, mulling over everything. She was right, of course, that there would be consequences, but at the moment, there was no need to worry about them. First and foremost, they needed to decide how much they were willing to invest in each other. It was all well and good for them to feel romantic towards each other when they were in such close proximity, but distance and time might change their feelings. Amelia knew it as well as he did. Despite their displays earlier, they’d both agreed to take it slow. Satisfied, for now, Hornblower got up from his desk and rang Polwheal for a cup of coffee. He’d make another tour of the ship to check on repairs, then perhaps he’d look in on Archie for himself.

When he got to the infirmary, he heard Amelia’s voice and refrained from opening the curtain. He couldn’t help but eavesdrop, however. “…totally irresponsible of you, Kennedy, which I’m sure you well know.”

 “Yes, Captain,” Archie said, sounding appropriately shamed, “I’m aware of it.”

“Would you mind telling me _why_ you never said anything about it to me or Dr. Olster? I checked with him, and he says he’d never heard of your condition, although it’s now blatantly obvious in hindsight. Was it really so important to keep it a secret?”

“It didn’t seem like much of a hindrance when I rejoined the service. And what did it matter if I was more breathless than the rest of the crew after a battle? Other sailors have coped with injuries much worse than mine.”

There was silence for a few minutes; Hornblower had the distinct impression that Amelia was looking Archie over. Then she spoke again. “This cannot happen again, Kennedy. With this injury, and your temperament, it is unwise to keep you as my first lieutenant.”

“Captain!” Archie gasped, sounding horrified, “You’re not going to discharge me?”

“No,” Amelia answered, “I’m recommending you for promotion to commander.”

Hornblower was taken aback. So was Archie, apparently; “You…what?”

“A commander is able to set his own pace, and is generally smart enough to stay out of harm’s way in the midst of battle, my own example notwithstanding. You’re less likely to run into trouble with your breathing if you’re just shouting orders from a quarterdeck. And since you seem capable of controlling your fits, I believe you’re long overdue for a new position.”

 “But your crew!”

“I’m sure I can find a new junior lieutenant to join the _Legacy_ , and the rest can gain a rank. They won’t object, I assure you.”

Another silence. Then, “Thank you, Captain,” Archie said quietly, “It’s kind of you to do this.”

“I owe you, Archie,” Amelia answered, her own voice soft, “You took on the job of first lieutenant despite the fact that you were with a chained captain. And you’ve always been willing to accept me as I am. In the early days, that meant a lot to me. I…I don’t know if I ever told you that.”

“It was my pleasure, Amelia. You’re not the only one who had a lot to overcome.”

Hornblower smiled and crept away; this was a conversation best left to the two of them. He’d look in on his old friend later.

***

Another two weeks passed, during which the two ships encountered nothing of interest. It was what went on between the ships that was interesting. Archie recovered enough for him to be moved, gingerly, back to the _Legacy_ , where he was confined to light duties until he could lift his arm without wincing. The _Sutherland’s_ repairs were finally completed. And the signal flags for “Captain requests permission to come aboard” went up nightly.

Hornblower and Amelia took turns hosting each other for dinner. Sometimes the first lieutenants joined, sometimes it was just the two of them. But it always ended the same way; the two of them sitting next to each other, hands touching, as they talked. Their conversations were personal but inconsequential—interests, favorite books, education—yet both of them knew that it was a form of courtship, and treated it with respect. At the end of the evening, before they left the cabin, they would kiss, carefully, and press hands before they opened the door. Hornblower was quite sure both crews knew what was going on, but as long as they made a pretense of being discreet, he refused to let himself get embarrassed.

As they entered the third week, another supply ship arrived. In addition to fresh water, fruit, and letters from home, both captains received a new set of orders. Hornblower opened his as soon as he was back in his cabin, and learned that he was to set out the next day and rejoin the fleet. They needed him back with the fleet to provide a little firepower. Hornblower had known an order like this was inevitable, but it still stung to read the words.

Amelia’s expression when she came forward to greet him that evening told him that she already knew what the orders said. “When?” she asked, once her door was closed.

“Tomorrow.”

She nodded. “I’m to leave tomorrow too. I have to recover the crewmen I sent off on the prize ships, and then I’ve been given two weeks leave. After that…I’ll probably be sent back here, unless the situation with France becomes desperate.”

Hornblower wasn’t sure what to say. Amelia gave him a small smile. “Well, no use complaining about it; it was bound to come eventually.”

“We write?”

“We write,” Amelia agreed, “And we wait and see. And until then…”

She moved to her desk, where she picked up her ornate chest. “Take it,” she said, placing it into Hornblower’s hands, “Keep it as a reminder. Maybe it’ll bring you good luck too.”

“Amelia, I couldn’t possibly…”

“It’s mine to do with as I see fit. And I’m giving it to you. All I ask is, if we decide to end the courtship, that you send it back to me.”

Hornblower knew that he shouldn’t argue. “As you wish, Captain Drake. I suppose I should give you something of mine as well.”

“If you want to, that’s lovely. But it isn’t necessary. I have a reminder of you pacing my decks, going slowly mad over his lack of duties.”

Hornblower laughed lightly. Amelia took his hand and led him to the table. “Well, shall we have dinner then?”

Dinner passed much as the others had. It was the ending that was a little different. As they stood to leave, Amelia pressed her hand to his cheek and gave him a much deeper kiss. He returned it, hands resting against her back. When they broke apart, she looked him directly in the eyes. “Be careful, Horatio.”

“I will. Promise me you’ll do the same.”

“Of course.”

Hornblower took her box and tucked it under his arm. “Godspeed, Captain Drake.”

She leaned against her doorframe, watching him go. “Fair winds, Captain Hornblower.”


	15. Articles of War

Hornblower knew better than to carry on over the separation. It was unbecoming of an officer and presumed a little too much about their courtship. He did, however, put Amelia’s chest on his desk and glance at it from time to time when he was working. Otherwise, life on board continued as it always had.

He hadn’t realized just how far chasing after privateers had taken him until the lookout spotted the flotilla nearly a month after departing the _Legacy_. Hornblower’s crew cheered at the sight of the Admiral’s flag, and Hornblower himself smiled a little. Seeing the pride of Britain scattered across the water was quite the inspiring sight. “Raise the flags, Mr. Savage,” he said after the cheers subsided, “Tell the Admiral that we’re rejoining the fleet.”

Savage called out a minute later. “Admiral requesting you to come aboard, sir.”

Hornblower nodded; they’d be wanting a report. “I’ll be along presently.”

He sat in his boat, looking up at the approaching ship (he couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was a different ship—Admiral Leighton must have taken a new command) and trying to get his thoughts in order. No doubt he would be asked about how he’d liked working with Captain Drake. The trick would be making his report sound positive without being _too_ enthusiastic. As Amelia said, the Admirals might not look too kindly on a romance between two of their captains, despite the extenuating circumstances.

The pipes twittered as he climbed aboard, and he nodded to the crewmen who looked at him. “The Admiral’s waiting for you,” Captain Miras said, once introductions had been made, “Just inside there.” Hornblower took off his hat and respectfully knocked on the door.

“Come in, Mr. Hornblower.” said a familiar voice that most certainly did not belong to Admiral Leighton. Hornblower couldn’t believe his ears, but as he pushed open the door, he found it was true; his former captain and greatest mentor, Admiral Pellew, was sitting at a desk and watching him enter. “Admiral Pellew, sir!” Hornblower said, saluting and inwardly kicking himself for the shock in his voice, “Have you replaced Admiral Leighton, sir?”

Pellew smiled indulgently. “Leighton was called away to business closer to home. I was asked to step in. Once I learned of your success in capturing the _Vacarme_ , I decided it was time to recall you so I could have a full report of the details. If you would be so kind as to supply them…”

Hornblower straightened up a little, hands folded reflexively behind his back, and started his report. “I had had some success in chasing down French ships a few months ago, while I was still part of the flotilla. Admiral Leighton, seeing this, thought those talents would be best put to use if I was chasing down privateers. To that end, he sent me to the trade routes to assist Captain Drake.”

“Drake, you say?” Pellew interrupted, looking at Hornblower keenly, “Would this happen to be the infamous ‘Wildcat’ Drake?”

“Yes, sir,” Hornblower answered, trying to maintain his composure, “I trust that you already know the details.”

Pellew sat back in his chair. “I do indeed. Pray continue.”

Hornblower continued his report, focusing primarily on the battles and the prize money brought in than on his interactions with Captain Drake or her crew. When he had finished, Pellew steepled his fingers, nodding his satisfaction, and looked Hornblower over intently. Hornblower stood still, unsure what Pellew found so fascinating. Then, at last, Pellew said, “And how is the good Captain Drake? The usual indomitable spirit, I trust?”

“Yes, sir,” Hornblower said, feeling himself smile a little, “She has quite a bit of enthusiasm for her work. Have you worked with her before?”

“I have not had the pleasure. But I have heard of her exploits from others, and would like very much to meet her for myself one day. I admire those who will not let adversity get in their way, and she, so it seems, is particularly determined. I do hope I get the opportunity to meet her before this war ends; I wish to see her in her element.”

“She’s a fine captain, sir,” Hornblower said, his voice carefully neutral, “And she is very careful to obey all the orders given to her. She’s absolutely dedicated to the service.”

 “Even at the expense of marriage?” Pellew said suddenly, “It sounds like a very lonely life for her if that is the case.”

Hornblower’s heart stopped for a moment. Keeping his face blank, he responded, “I believe so, sir. It’s not something that often comes up in the course of conversation, but she did mention her desire to follow the Articles of War to the letter.”

“And what, precisely, did she mean by that?” Pellew’s eyes were boring into Hornblower’s face, and Hornblower was finding it harder and harder to keep still. “Well, she stated quite clearly that the Navy will treat her as a man, and punish her as a man if she falls short. She takes no chances on that front, Admiral. And to that effect…”

Pellew interrupted him again, looking oddly amused. “Mr. Hornblower, I presume you read the Articles of War every Sunday?”

Now utterly baffled, but glad to be on a new topic of conversation, Hornblower nodded. “Yes sir, of course.”

“Can you tell me, then, _exactly_ how Article Twenty-Nine reads?”

 Hornblower closed his eyes and conjured up the words from his memory. “If any person in the fleet shall commit the unnatural and detestable sin of buggery and sodomy with man or beast, he shall be punished with death by the sentence of a court-martial.”

“Do you believe that Captain Drake reads the Articles every Sunday as well?”

“I’m sure she does, sir.”

“Then she should know that her worries are groundless. From what you know of her, Mr. Hornblower, does she seem like the type to commit sodomy?”

“No, sir!” Hornblower said, hoping he wasn’t blushing. Pellew nodded his satisfaction. “Then she is free to pursue a relationship if she so chooses. She has a natural loophole to counteract the Article, and the Admiralty would not be so cruel as to punish her for that. Perhaps, if it wouldn’t come across as too personal, you should write to Captain Drake and tell her as much. I would not want a member of the King’s Navy to ignore their life for the sake of the service. This war won’t last forever, after all.”

“Yes, sir,” Hornblower said, saluting and keeping his head low to hide the blush that had now almost certainly materialized, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Good,” Pellew said with a slight smile, “You are dismissed. I’m having a dinner for all the captains tonight; I hope you’ll consider joining us.”

“I would be honored,” Hornblower answered, giving a little bow and moving towards the door, “Merely send up a signal flag, and I will be there.”

Hornblower spent the return to the _Sutherland_ turning everything over in his head. As soon as he was safely aboard, he entered his cabin, pulled out paper and ink, and started to write.

_My dear Captain Drake;_

_I have returned to the flotilla safely. Upon arriving on board the Admiral’s ship to give my report, I made a startling discovery…_


	16. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Livejournal doesn't allow me to do fonts (and I'm not sure Ao3 does either) I have left the fic as I originally wrote it; with Amelia's Letters in bold, and Horatio's letters in italics.
> 
> Also, some information is deliberately missing; the idea is to get a sense of the letters they wrote to each other, not their entire correspondence. That's why some letters refer to things that weren't seen.
> 
> And finally, see if you can spot the little cameo from another Age of Sail character...

**September 21 st**

**Mr. Hornblower,**

**I hope this letter finds you well. I have heard rumors from the supply ships that the flotilla you are a part of has met with some action of late, and I am sure your ship acquitted itself admirably.**

**For my part, my men and I have arrived safely at Portsmouth, where most of my men have flung themselves into their shoreleave. I remain, as usual, on board, and sent James out with a list of the supplies I will need for my cabin when we next put to sea. I appreciate the chance to rest, get some reading done, and, of course, catch up on my correspondence.**

**The contents of your letter astounded me. I had no idea that the Admiralty could be so…good-natured about my personal life. As you said, it does make it a bit easier for us. Not that they really need to worry at the moment, since we currently have half-a-league between us, and our letters, I hope, will remain between the two of us, and not with a curious purser in a supply ship. But that is something not worth dwelling on.**

**Archie’s recovery continues at an acceptable rate. I still denied him active duty until we reached land, for I feel that that, combined with the shoreleave, should be enough to return him to his old self. He has gone off to London to visit with his family—perhaps he will write to you too. I myself have written a letter to the Admiralty, putting forward a suggestion of promotion for him. I am sure they will take it under consideration, even if the source is not exactly one of the favored ones. They cannot punish men for serving under a shackled captain; that just wouldn’t be on, now would it? At any rate, I do not expect an answer until the end of our leave, and would not be surprised if one arrived after we had already put to sea again.**

**There is not much else I can say at the moment. I have no idea when this letter will reach you, so perhaps by the time you read these words, I will be back on the ocean. But as always, I will look forward to a response from you.**

**Yours Sincerely,**

**Captain Amelia Drake.**

 

_October 8 th_

_My Dear Captain Drake,_

_I am indeed in fine health and fine spirits, all the more so now that I have read your charming letter. I could almost see you as you wrote, your hair framing your face as you bent over the inkpot, the stiff white quill a near-perfect contrast to your soft red hair. It was a magnificent image._

_We have been kept quite busy here in the blockade. Several ships have attempted to slip through, and we beat them back with minimal effort. There was, however, a spectacular battle about a week ago, where we disabled several ships and sent the rest scurrying off. I believe only one of our ships was taken; a landing party crept to the French port and burned it so Napoleon can get no use from it. We ourselves were lucky enough to escape relatively unscathed, although it certainly exhilarated the crew—and myself is well, if I’m honest with myself._

_Among the contents of the latest mail ship was a report of all the prize money our ship received for the privateers that the Sutherland and Legacy brought in this past summer. I was, quite frankly, astounded by the figures. Even for the cabin boys, the money is considerable. I am sure you received a similar report; is this really what privateers fetch in Britain? Extraordinary._

_There isn’t much more I can think to mention on my end. A new ship joined the flotilla, bringing with it much of my crew from the prize ships. I’m glad to have them back, for while we are not short on hands, I would prefer to have a full crew. I have also dined with most of my fellow captains, and while they are fine conversationalists, I feel that the dinner table is missing wit and bite, and the only one who could provide it is currently half-a-league away. At least a recent letter assuaged that loss a little. My very best wishes go with you for a relaxing leave, and I remain,_

_Your Humble Servant,_

_Horatio Hornblower_

 

**October 29 th**

**Mr. Hornblower,**

**There is no need for you to use such flowery language with me, sir. I am not some fair maiden who needs—nay, demands—pretty words from those who write to her. I do believe a fly landed on your letter as I read it and immediately expired from the sugary sweetness that exuded from the first and last paragraphs. With the greatest respect, you are clearly uncomfortable writing in that sort of way, and there is no need for you to write like that on my account. All I ask is that you write what you wish to write, in whatever way feels natural to you. Your middle passages were perfect; why spoil it with maudlin sentimentality?**

**I am half-a-league away no longer; I am back on the open sea, patrolling the trade routes once again (it seems the Admiralty quite likes a regular influx of ill-gotten French gains flowing into England’s coffers). Archie remains with me, for now, as I have received no response from the Admiralty, save a small note that they will take it under consideration. I am happy to report that he has completely recovered from his wounds, although the doctor informs me there will always be a slight scar on his shoulder. Archie doesn’t mind—he says it gives him a story to tell, and if he tells it right, “he might make a few ladies swoon”. He truly is incorrigible.**

**I, too, received a tally of our prize money. The Vacarme alone brought in a pretty penny, even though most of the proceeds went to you. I’ve grown used to those sorts of figures, having been at this post for at least a year, by my reckoning, but I remember being as floored as you when I got my first report. I may even have kept it in my trunk to remind myself that I have something waiting for me at war’s end. (I contacted my old solicitor shortly afterwards and asked him to look after it. Being an old friend of my father’s, he agreed, and has sent me regular updates since). I’m not sure what I intend to do with it; buy a small house in the country, perhaps…?**

**We haven’t seen action yet, so I am quite jealous of you. Nothing like cannon fire to rouse the men and thrill the blood. The Legacy will just have to make do with cannon drills and climbing exercises. At least it has allowed me to spend my evenings practicing whist; when next we meet, I want to give you an actual challenge.**

**My leave, before I forget, was peaceful, if uneventful. There is nothing to report there. Archie’s was apparently more eventful—has he written to you? If not, I will make him do so; such stories must be spread far and wide. In fact, perhaps I will make him start writing my letters, since he can spin quite a tale. Despite your assurances, I do not think these letters make for thrilling reading. Perhaps after our first battle.**

**Yours,**

**Amelia Drake.**

 

**November 4 th**

**Mr. Hornblower,**

**Well, no sooner do I write to you that things are uneventful than something happens. Specifically, the Admiralty wrote to Archie and me and informed us that Mr. Kennedy shall, indeed, be gaining his own command. The men gave him a rousing cheer when they heard the news, and I allowed them an extra ration of rum. I presented Archie himself with a bottle of scotch—he seemed to appreciate the gesture.**

**The unfortunate after-effect of this, of course, is that we must return to London at once for him to claim his command. Afterwards, the Legacy must wait in port until we can take on a new officer. Yarrow, I believe, will be promoted to my first lieutenant, which means that I shall either keep promoting men down the line and wind up with a new Midshipman, or just promote all my lieutenants and take on a Junior Lieutenant. Decisions, decisions…**

**I will write you again when all of this is settled. But I felt, as a friend of Archie’s, that you should be informed of the happy news.**

**Yours,**

**Amelia Drake.**

 

_November 10 th_

_My Dear Captain Drake,_

_I genuinely apologize for my letter from October. I suppose I was just in the habit of writing like that. At your request, I will leave off on such things in future._

_I have received a letter or two from Archie, including an accounting of his shoreleave. I’m not sure whether to be impressed, bewildered, horrified, or some combination of the three. Perhaps gaining a new command will mellow him a bit. I already wrote to him to congratulate him on his new ship, but if this letter arrived before he sets off, pass along my good wishes a second time._

_The seas have been a bit rough here, although there has fortunately been nothing too damaging. We even had a light snowfall yesterday. Is the weather any milder in London (for I am sure you’re in London by now)? The one good thing about the change in temperature is that it keeps the Frogs at bay somewhat. There isn’t much to do, but we’re mostly glad of it._

_I look forward to hearing of your new officer, and how your ship runs with a new man at the ropes. The Legacy is indeed a force to be reckoned with, and new blood will surely strengthen it. And I say that with all sincerity._

_Warmly,_

_Horatio Hornblower_

 

**November 16 th**

**Mr. Hornblower,**

**We’re leaving tomorrow morning to resume our position, but I wanted to quickly send out a message to inform you of the details of Archie’s command, and my own.**

**I am certain you will not believe me on this, but I swear it’s true. Archie’s ship is a captured Dutch ship that used to be known, marvelously, as The Disgraceful Strumpet. I have no idea if it was a privateer, a merchant ship, or an actual part of the Dutch Navy. All I know is that I nearly collapsed with laughter when Archie told me. Perhaps because it offended English sensibilities, the ship was renamed The Betsey. Their attempts to make the ship modest have failed, because Archie himself called her “the lewdest ship in the Navy” and is considering painting the figurehead’s dress crimson and giving her a diamond necklace. He drew the line at painting a naked woman on the sails to distract the enemy, however; he didn’t think the Admiralty would approve, for some reason.**

**As for the Legacy, I gained not one, but two crewmen. Inspired by Archie’s example, Midshipman Jones (promoted to Acting-Lieutenant Jones by me after we arrived in London) decided to request a transfer so he could gain experience on a new ship before taking his Lieutenant’s exam. I agreed, and informed the Admiralty of the change. In response, they have sent me two men, one relatively green, one extraordinarily experienced, although they are both the same age.**

**Mr. Phelps, my Midshipman, was obviously informed of the unorthodox nature of my ship before he came aboard, for while he still stared at my ears when he came aboard, he wasn’t taken aback by my gender. He has only four months of experience at sea, and is a ruddy young man of fourteen. I believe he requires a little training, but he should do quite nicely.**

**But it is my Junior Lieutenant who truly impresses me. It seems that Mr. Blakeney, at the age of twelve, lost his arm in a gun battle. Despite this, he took command of his ship during a raid, and has learned to function with just his right arm. Perhaps he cannot hold a spyglass without aid, but he has a brilliant mind and an eagerness to see the world around him. I almost feel bad taking him aboard; he would do much better on a ship bound for the West Indies. I will take him, however, if only for this reason. When he came aboard, he looked around for the captain, saw me, and stopped in his tracks, eyes widening. He remained like that for perhaps fifteen seconds, then he shook his head, approached me, and held out his hand. “Lieutenant Blakeney come aboard, Captain Drake. I look forward to working with you.” It was clear that he meant every word. Since then, he has not given either my chest or my ears a second glance. I will be sorely disappointed if this young man isn’t given his own ship by war’s end.**

**I will write again soon, if only to tell you how our new crew handles privateers.**

**Yours,**

**Amelia Drake.**

**Postscript: We have had light snow too, although not enough to stick to the ground. I believe we can safely say that winter has come.**

 

_December 25 th_

_My Dear Captain Drake,_

_Who knows when this letter will find you—the new year, I expect—but I wished to write this at the proper date._

_Thank you for your marvelous Christmas present. My only worry is that you spent entirely too much on me; while I appreciate having more than enough to last me to my next shoreleave (which, if Admiral Pellew is to be believed, will be sometime in March), three bags of coffee would have been sufficient, and not the five different bags you sent along. I’d never even heard of three of those types. Where did you find these?_

_I apologize for not having sent along a gift for you; as you know, my ship has not left the blockade since I returned to it in September. Otherwise, I would have tried to find something for you. For now, you will have to make do with me wishing you a Happy Christmas._

_With my best wishes,_

_Horatio_

 

**January 15 th**

**Dear Horatio,**

**Don’t trouble yourself about a gift for me; I understand your position, and there is no need to make it up to me (believe me, I know that’s what you’re thinking). I have all I need at the moment, and while I certainly believe in planning for the future, I would not want a gift from you to be set aside for some later date. I will accept your Christmas greetings as a present and be content with it.**

**(And a heartfelt thank you for your other letters as well. They came at just the right moment, for I had been forced to deal with the supply ship that brought the letter on the very day that I started my convalescence period. It took far too long to deal with them, and by the time I got back to my cabin, I was dangerously close to either passing out or stalking down to the kitchen and murdering poor James for not heating up the water fast enough. Seeing no less than five letters with your handwriting on them, however, assured me that it was in my best interest to be patient, for then I could crawl into bed and read them at my leisure.)**

**As for your coffee, I found it in a little shop on my way to the Admiralty to request a new Midshipman. I cannot take all the credit for the gift; it was Archie who informed me that you were fond of the stuff. Since I would have the opportunity to send you a Christmas gift, and considering that it is the nature of the season to be generous, I decided to send you one of each of the kinds the shop had for sale. The clerk assured me that all of them taste marvelous, but you, of course, will have to be the judge of that.**

**One thing in your Christmas letter caught my eye; your mention of a March leave. The Admiralty tends to make a practice of calling the Legacy back to England every six months so I can pick up the men from my various prize ships. If we coordinate it right, we may be able to spend some of our leave visiting each other. I am eager to hear of your exploits in person, and to regale you with tales of my own. Do you think it would be possible to manage that?**

**The Legacy remains in excellent form. I believe the new year sparked some concern among the French, because the privateers were out in force in the past week. The merchant ships have seen six or seven different ships in the waters. So far, we’ve tracked down four of them, and we’re on the tail of the fifth. I’ve made a bet with Yarrow that If I don’t sent the last ship home by February, I’ll be forced to give him the bottle of Rum I bartered for. I’m looking forward to taking one of the fine embroidered neckerchiefs his mother sent him; I’ve had my eye on that black-and-white one since he first wore it.**

**The rest of my men are in similar spirits. All of my officers agree that Phelps has been cured of his recklessness and has now settled into a relatively comfortable state whenever there’s a battle on, so I no longer have to worry about getting an entire cannon crew killed when he takes it upon himself to “load the cannon himself to speed up the process.” Blakeney appears to have adopted one of the ducks we got from the last supply ship, and I’m allowing it for as long as we still have meat for the men. If it survives until March, I’ll let him keep it. Never say that I’m not charitable.**

**I trust that you’re well, and I damn well hope that you’re warm. I sent you that coffee for a reason, you know.**

**Yours, as always,**

**Amelia Drake.  
**

**Postscript, added Jan. 23 rd: My new neckerchief is magnificent. Also, the duck is still alive.**

 

_January 30 th_

_My Dear Captain Drake,_

_Rest assured, the coffee is being drunk. I do believe Captain Rhodes is jealous of my selection._

_It’s in poor form to discuss potential leave with my Admiral, of course, but I believe that I will be given leave in mid-March. It’s entirely possible that we could find a way to meet. You’ll have to keep me informed about your own status._

_Have you heard from Archie recently? He was apparently assigned to guard a ship travelling back from the Americas. He said something in his last letter to me about “the audacity of the ex-colonists” and I was wondering if he had elaborated on that in a letter to you._

_I’m about to depart for a meeting with the Captains regarding another assault on the mainland. I’ll write again if there’s anything interesting planned._

_Horatio_

 

_February 7 th_

_My Dear Captain Drake,_

_Due to the circumstances I told you about in my letter from the 1 st, Admiral Pellew has not only given us a date for our shoreleave, but informed me that the Sutherland is going to be reassigned, although he won’t give me any details on that as yet. I am to keep the date a secret from my men, but I felt it wise to inform you that we will be leaving the flotilla on March 12, and will probably arrive in England by the 29th. At that point, I will have to wait until the Admiralty informs me of my new orders, which could take up to a month—I gather that it’s something relatively important, and must be planned out perfectly. Do you think this will correspond with your projected leave?_

_Hoping for a quick response,_

_Horatio_

 

**March 19 th**

**Horatio,**

**I’ve settled myself in the Pale Rose inn. It’s about two miles from the port. Write to me when you arrive and we’ll figure out where and when to meet.**

**Hurry home,**

**Amelia.**


	17. Reunion

“Very good, Mr. Bush,” Hornblower said, nodding his approval as he looked up at the sails, “Everything appears to be in order. You may inform the men that they are free to begin their shoreleave.”

 “Thank you, sir,” Bush said, touching his forehead, “If I may, Captain…”

Hornblower looked at him, already suspecting what was coming. “Yes, Mr. Bush? You may speak freely.”

“Well, I was just wondering if you would be going ashore yourself. There have been times when you prefer to remain aboard, keeping an eye on your ship. You work as hard at the rest of us, and you deserve time off as well.”

Hornblower smiled a little. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Bush. While I believe I will remained stationed on the _Sutherland_ instead of taking a room, I will be venturing out into town once or twice.”

Bush was pleased at the response, and moved off to dismiss the crew. Hornblower himself turned on his heel and returned to his cabin. Once the door was safely shut, he moved to his desk and retrieved a letter, re-reading it carefully. It had been waiting for him at the port office, and contained nothing but a set of instructions on how to get to the Pale Rose inn by foot or carriage. He smiled a little and tucked it into his coat. He would be there in about half-an-hour if he walked briskly. With luck, Amelia would be in.

***

“Pardon me, is a Captain Drake staying here?” Hornblower asked the landlady respectfully, hat in his hand.

“He is,” she said, looking him over curiously, “You here to call him back to duty?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, “I’ve just gotten into port myself, and I wanted to call on an old friend. Is he in?”

“I believe so. Do you want me to announce you?”

“That would be kind of you. He probably isn’t expecting me this early.”

“Who shall I say is calling?”

            “Captain Hornblower will suffice, I think.”

She smiled and went off to deliver the message. Hornblower repositioned the box under his arm and glanced in the mirror hanging in the hall to make sure his hair was presentable and his neckerchief was straight. Now that he was actually here, his nerves were starting to take control of him.

The landlady reappeared a moment later. “Captain Drake will be delighted to see you. His room’s just up the stairs, third to the left.”

“Thank you.” Hornblower said, taking a deep breath and making his way further into the inn. No turning back now, although truth be told, he had no desire to turn back, nerves notwithstanding.

He found the proper door and rapped on it lightly. The door opened a crack, and he caught a brief glimpse of Amelia’s face. “Anyone else in the hall?”

Hornblower glanced down either side. “No one.”

The door opened a little wider. “Come in, then, quickly.”

Hornblower slipped inside, noting immediately the wig resting on the dresser. Before he could say anything, however, he heard the click of the door swinging closed, and suddenly found himself in a tangle of limbs. Amelia kissed him so hard and so fast that he was left reeling when she pulled away a scant ten seconds later. “A pleasure to see you again, Captain Hornblower.”

He blinked a few times, then managed to take her in properly. She was still in her uniform, her hair slightly mussed from being under the wig. But her eyes were warm and her smile was practically from ear to ear. Hornblower was surprised by just how much of a welcome sight she was. “The feeling is mutual, Captain Drake.”

“Sit down, sit down!” she said, gesturing to a table off to the side, “I admit, I wasn’t expecting you to just drop in, so the room’s a bit messy.”

“No trouble,” Hornblower said, sitting down and setting the box on the table, “I just thought I’d surprise you.”

“Shall I send for something to eat? Maybe some coffee?”

“Perhaps later. I came here primarily to see you, after all.”

He fancied there was a flush on her cheek at that. “If you’d like. You’re looking well. That flotilla didn’t run you ragged, I see.”

“Fortunately, there were more ships there to carry the load. It wasn’t horrible, as far as positions go.”

“Still, the coast of France in the dead of winter. Not an enviable position.”

“It can’t be much better than being out on the open sea chasing after privateers.”

“Touché,” Amelia smiled, “But at least we had action to keep us warm. From your letters, it sounded like there were days on end when you did nothing.”

“Well, we managed.” Hornblower said, feeling his nerves starting to rise again. In an attempt to get himself back under control, he changed the subject. “Forgive me for prying, Amelia, but I seem to recall you telling me that you would never go back to the wig again. So what’s that I see sitting on your dresser?”

She sighed. “You _had_ to notice.” Her tone indicated that she wasn’t all that put out by the question. “When I said I’d never go back to the wig, I meant after the war’s end. Perhaps the Navy has accepted a woman with cat ears, but the general populace doesn’t need to know just yet. If I walked around town in this uniform and no wig, God only knows what people would think. Best to reveal that there was a woman in the King’s Navy _after_ the war is over, so as not to cause gossip. It wouldn’t be good for me or the Admiralty if it got out. At least, that’s the way _I_ see it.”

Hornblower had his doubts about that, but there was no reason to push the matter; if that’s what she wanted, so be it. He gave her a bit of a smile. “I see. You’re doing it for the good of the service.”

“Most certainly!” Amelia said emphatically, although her eyes had taken on an irreverent glint, “Why, if I didn’t hide my real identity, the Navy might collapse! Perhaps I should petition them to give me a medal for making such sacrifices for the sake of my country!”

Hornblower laughed. “Well, I don’t have a medal for you, but I did bring you something.”

Amelia cocked her head, and he picked up the box and opened it, holding it out to her. “I thought you might appreciate an influx of good luck.”

She reached out and lifted up the small wooden ball, cupping it in her hands almost reverently. “Has it brought _you_ luck, Horatio?”

“Well, I’m alive, my ship is in good condition, my crew is in excellent spirits, and all my assignments were carried out successfully. It might not be much, but I’d call it good luck.”

“I agree,” Amelia said, giving the ball a light rub before replacing it back in the box, “Thank you for letting me see it again.”

Hornblower rested his hand on the table, taking a deep breath. “Actually…there’s more to it than that.”

Amelia sat down across from him, arms resting on the table. “Yes?”

Hornblower looked into her face and gave a ghost of a laugh. “I’m not sure how best to phrase this…”

She leaned in, resting her hand on his. “I gather this is about our courtship.”

“Yes. We’ve been separated for six months, writing to each other on a weekly basis, and tried our best to be open with each other. You, at least, have done your best to show me all sides of yourself, and I’m grateful for that. It makes this much easier to say.”

He saw a subtle change in her expression, the slightest droop of her shoulders, and soldiered on before she could completely get the wrong idea. He pushed the box forward. “What I mean to say, Amelia, is that I want you to take this back, not because I don’t want it, but because I hope that I will no longer have need of it. Your letters have helped me make up my mind, Amelia. I…I would be honored if you would consider being my…that is, if you would…oh, damn it all, this was much easier to phrase last night!”

 His point had clearly been made, though, because Amelia had a hand over her mouth. “Just say it, Horatio,” she murmured, “I need to actually hear it to know that it’s real. I don’t care how you do it, just say it.”

Hornblower gave up on the flowery declaration. “Marry me.” he said bluntly, blushing as he did so.

Amelia grabbed his lapels and hauled herself over the table to kiss him again. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, “Gladly.”

 He smiled and placed a kiss on her hand. “Thank you for not caring that I just made a royal arse of myself.”

Her smile looked like it might become permanently affixed to her face. “Thank _you_ for something I never thought I’d have.”

He stood up, then, and took her hand. “I have something I want to show you.” Amelia followed him obligingly to the dresser, where a large oval mirror was hanging. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Look at yourself, Amelia.”

She hesitated, looking over her shoulder at him. He smiled reassuringly. “Trust me.” With a deep breath, she turned around and looked at her reflection. Hornblower could see her eyes narrow and felt her muscles tense under his hands. He looked into the mirror as well, meeting her reflection’s gaze.

“I just wanted you to see that _this_ is who I fell for. Not Captain Drake of _HMS Legacy_ , and not ‘Amelia Cunningham’ who wore a wig and gown and went to Archie’s dinner. The woman in front of me is the woman I want to marry.”

He reached up, gently, and touched her ear. She flinched, but he refused to take his hand away, running his fingers slowly up the back until he reached the tip. “I know it’s not easy to look at these,” he said, repeating the gesture, “but they’re yours, and in the grand scheme of things, they don’t really matter. I barely noticed them after working with you for a week, and your crew certainly seems to feel the same way. They may be unusual, but they’re not hideous. And…” he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, “when I see you standing there, body straight, eyes bright, a smile of satisfaction on your face, I think you’re beautiful. Every time you look in the mirror, I want you to remember that.”

Amelia blinked slowly, reaching out a hand and touching the mirror, eyes riveted on his hand, which was still stroking her ear. Then she turned to look at him properly. She didn’t say a word, but her arms went around him and she pressed her face into his shoulder, her body trembling. Hornblower embraced her, his fingers rubbing circles into her back. “Forgive me,” he said softly, “But I felt it was something you should hear. No wife of mine should be ashamed to look in the mirror.”

 At last, she looked back up at him. Her smile was smaller than usual, and a bit more hesitant, but the sentiment was unmistakable. “I…well…you know what I want to say.”

“I do,” he assured her, “Think nothing of it.”

The old wryness was back in place now. “And so, now that we understand each other…when should we set the date? Where do you want it held? And most importantly, who’s writing to Archie about this?”


	18. Epilogue

Hornblower straightened his neckerchief for the sixth time, knowing it was perfectly straight but needing something to do with his hands. Bush stood beside him, cool and collected, although he seemed to be suppressing a grin. “What’s the time?” Hornblower asked curtly.

Bush consulted his watch. “Five minutes to Eight.”

Hornblower nodded and put his hands behind his back, looking resolutely in front of him. He refused to keep glancing back at the door; the last thing he wanted was to look like an overeager schoolboy. Bush, perhaps understanding this, said nothing, preferring to keep a companionable silence.

At last, off in the distance, Hornblower heard a clock chime Eight. At the same moment, Bush turned his head and made an admiring noise. Hornblower finally allowed himself to look over his shoulder…and felt his breath catch in his throat.

Amelia had entered the church, head held high, wearing a simple white gown. Even though this was the first time Hornblower had seen her in skirts, she moved in such a way that it managed to look natural on her. She had a crown of flowers on her head, and even though she had a veil and train draped artistically around her, her ears could be seen through the gauze. She looked marvelous, with her flashing eyes and broad grin. Archie walked beside her, arm linked with hers, his Commander’s epaulette prominently displayed.

Hornblower smiled at both of them as they reached the front of the church. “A pleasure to see you again, Commander Kennedy.”

“Likewise, Captain Hornblower,” Archie responded with an easy grin, “May I present to you Captain Drake, soon to be Mrs. Hornblower?”

“Not as soon as all that,” Amelia laughed, “We agreed that I should keep my surname, at least till war’s end. Two Captain Hornblower’s running around the navy might cause a little confusion.”

“Besides, the fewer opportunities the sailors have to make jibes at the name ‘Hornblower’, the better,” Hornblower added, “I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Is everybody assembled?” the priest interjected quietly. Hornblower blushed and turned back to the pulpit. “Yes.”

The priest smiled in understanding and opened his bible, “Then let’s begin.”

***

“Oof. Really, Horatio, this isn’t necessary.”

“It’s tradition.”

“Can you even _see_ through all the muslin? How do you intend to find the knob?”

“I’ll manage.”

He could tell Amelia was rolling her eyes. “Oh, here!” He heard the door creak open. “Just move straight ahead.”

Hornblower followed her instructions, moving from the dim hall into their room, which had already been lit for them. “All right, you’ve passed it. Now put me down before you strain something.”

Hornblower set Amelia back on her feet. Despite her dry tone, she looked rather amused by the whole proceeding. “I had no idea that you were such a stickler for tradition. A proper wedding breakfast, flowers in the church, and now this.”

“I’ve always believed in doing things right.” Hornblower responded modestly. She laughed lightly. “Be that as it may, this is the first wedding I heard of with _two_ best men. Not to mention exiting the church to the drawn swords, cheering, and gun salutes of no less than _three_ ship’s crews. The passerby must have thought there was some sort of riot going on.”

Hornblower stroked her ear lightly, deliberately rolling the tip between his fingers. She quieted at that and kissed him, hand pressing into his chest. When they broke apart, he carefully lifted the wreath and veil off her head, setting it onto the nearest surface. “How long is your leave?”

“Three weeks this time. The Admiralty was rather generous when I had the audacity to ask for an extra week on account of my impending marriage. The order was signed by one Edward Pellew, who I’ve never had dealings with. You wouldn’t happen to have mentioned something when you were under him in the flotilla, by chance?”

Hornblower cleared his throat and set down his hat. “I believe he was aware of it, although I never said anything to him directly.”

“I shall have to write him a thank-you,” Amelia mused, reaching behind her to start unbuttoning her dress, “How long do you have in port?”

“A week, that I know of.” Hornblower answered, touching her hands and taking over the task.

“Good,” Amelia said, arching her shoulders and allowing the dress to slide off, “Enough time to get a taste of married life. Forgive me if I’m unable to cook for you, my dear; the kitchen appears to be unfinished.”

“None of that,” Hornblower admonished gently, unable to resist planting a light kiss on her shoulder, “I wouldn’t have you cooking on our honeymoon anyway.”

“I appreciate that. Now—stop fussing with that, I can manage—speaking of the honeymoon, shall we get down to certain, erm…particulars?”

She said it with a spark in her eye, which was counterbalanced by the flush that sprang to her face. Hornblower trailed his fingers down her back and left her to her own devices, turning his attention to his uniform. As he unbuttoned his jacket, he heard a clinking sound and realized that he’d forgotten to remove his watch. He pulled it out and ran his hand over the face, watching the silver glint in the lamplight. Then, with a grin, he crossed the room and placed the watch face-down, on the farthest corner from the bed. Tonight, he had no need to know what the time was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the main body of "Windfalls." However, there have been other fics between these two (who have become my crack OTP), which will be posted in a separate entry.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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